


Fallen Demon

by kally77



Series: Bloody Soul series [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kally77/pseuds/kally77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Bloody Soul, the wrong vampire was cursed with a soul.<br/>Now soulless again, Spike waits to make his move on the Slayer... but killing her isn't exactly what he has in mind.<br/>Retelling of season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer Months

Trying not to sigh again, Buffy let her eyes go from one member of the group to the next, until she finally stopped on Giles. They were in his apartment, supposedly for a post near-apocalypse debriefing; but so far, the only topic had been Spike.

“It wasn’t his fault,” she repeated, as calmly as she could. “He wasn’t aware he was biting me. I trust him. And so do you. All of you. So stop that act.”

She wished Giles hadn’t seemed like he saw right through her.

“I still don’t see why we can’t resoul him,” Xander muttered, his brow deeply furrowed.

“Me too!” Willow piped in. “I mean, the spell is foolproof now; so why don’t we just…”

To Buffy’s surprise, Giles slowly shook his head.

“If that’s what we decide to do,” he said tiredly, “we might as well go ahead and stake him. It would be more merciful, and he has certainly earned our mercy.”

Once more, Buffy repeated her thrall story. Repeated that Spike hadn’t realized he was so close to killing her. Repeated that he was fighting on their side now. She eventually convinced them to drop the subject. And to postpone the resouling indefinitely.

*****

For the fifth night in a row, Giles accompanied Buffy on patrol. Only because it was his duty, he told himself. Not because he wanted or needed to monitor Spike. If the vampire was a danger, Buffy could protect herself; in any case, Giles seriously doubted that he was. Spike was too impatient in nature to play such an act for so long.

So, it wasn’t Spike Giles was observing, but rather Buffy. He had expected Angel’s departure to affect her, to distract her to the point that she’d put herself into danger; so far though, she wasn’t showing much reaction. She hadn’t talked to anyone about him – Giles had checked – and for all intents and purposes, she didn’t look heart-broken.

Then again, Giles reflected, Spike could be dangerous on an entirely different level than what he had expected. There had been their dance on prom night. Giles hadn’t believed it meant much, but maybe…

Maybe he did need to keep an eye on Spike after all. He had no right to interfere in Buffy’s love life. He wasn’t her father or even her Watcher anymore; but he had seen how her attraction to a vamp had ended the first time around.

*****

For the first time since the Ascension, Buffy was patrolling alone with Spike. So far, one or more members of the gang had always accompanied them. She knew why, of course; they were wary of Spike. It still surprised her that she wasn’t.

She could tell that he had something to say, that he had wanted to talk to her for a week now, but he never had so far because they always had company. She wondered what it was.

“Slayer? Why didn’t you stop me?”

Startled, she stared at Spike.

“Why didn’t I stop you?” she repeated, unsure of what he meant.

“You know, when I bit you. Why didn’t you just stop me? Or stake me?”

He looked at her attentively, and her thoughts accelerated. What could she answer? She couldn’t say that it had felt right at the time, could she? The truth was, she wasn’t sure anymore why she hadn’t stopped him. She had just been tired, so tired of everything; his fangs had held the promise of rest.

She definitely couldn’t say that. Not to him, not to anyone, not ever. No one would understand, no one knew what it meant to be the Slayer.

*****

Spike watched his Slayer, wondering if she was aware that she was rubbing at the neat scars he had left on her throat. His fangs itched every time he saw them, the memory of the taste of her blood filling his mouth and mind; and every time he remembered – not that he could ever forget – that for a moment she had been his, in that most intimate way. He tried not to think about it too much, because the way it affected his body was so obvious she was bound to notice eventually. He wasn’t ready for the questions that would bring. _She_ wasn’t ready.

“You put me under thrall,” she finally answered. “I couldn’t stop you.”

She started walking again, hands now deep in her pockets. After a second, Spike caught up with her. Did she truly believe what she had just said? Had she said the same thing to the others? Come to think of it, they hadn’t mentioned at all that he had almost drained her.

The thing was, he had no thrall.

He refused to consider the alternative. She couldn’t have a death wish already. Not so soon. Not before he had a chance with her.

*****

Oz’s hand felt nice in Willow’s, much nicer than the stake in her other hand, and she smiled. Being with him always made her heart all fluttery, even when they were helping Buffy with patrol and supposed to be serious. She couldn’t help it though; she never got tired of the feeling. She was lucky to have him, and she knew it.

As she cast a glance at Buffy on the side, Willow’s grin abated slightly. She knew what her friend had felt for Angel, as much as she herself felt for Oz; and Willow suspected that his departure had hurt Buffy more than she showed. But of course, she was being strong and hiding her pain.

Unless…

Now frowning a little, Willow shifted her gaze to the silent shadow patrolling with them. She still believed, deep down, that they should have resouled Spike, if only for everybody’s peace of mind. She still couldn’t understand why Buffy didn’t want him souled. But then, maybe…

Nah.

Buffy would have told her.

Right?

She wouldn’t keep something as serious, as important as falling in love with someone new – even a vampire – from her best friend.

Would she?

Willow needed to know.

*****

Buffy was out with Willow for a girls’ night, when for the first time in weeks, Joyce heard a familiar knock on her back door.

She knew that Buffy still patrolled with Spike, and that, unlike Angel, he hadn’t listened to her and left town for Buffy’s own good. She knew despite not having seen him since her request. Buffy had casually mentioned him, a couple of times, as she did her friends. He had stayed away, and Joyce had not sought him out. On one hand, she was convinced that she was right, that Buffy deserved a shot at a real life. On the other, Spike’s words and warning still echoed in her and her heart tightened whenever she thought of them.

She went to open the door and smiled. Despite their disagreement, she had missed their chats. He smiled back.

They shared a cup of cocoa and didn’t talk about Buffy, leaving the subject of Spike’s feelings for another time. As long as Buffy did not return them, his feelings were irrelevant. All Joyce hoped was that her daughter would understand that she had no future with a vampire, souled or not. Even if they both liked Spike.

*****

Even after months of fighting by the Slayer’s side, Spike still wasn’t allowed to set foot in her house. He didn’t mind. Really. He understood that he would need to earn the privilege with time and trust. Until then, sitting on the back porch with lovely company and a nice, warm cuppa in his hands was enough.

It didn’t fit the demon image, and he was quite aware of it; but he found in these moments glimpses of a past that he had never realized he missed. Not his humanity in itself, he never had and never would regret that loss. However, quiet chats and laughs, with someone who cared about him even when she disagreed with him, were deliciously sweet. He couldn’t forget that Joyce had contributed to breaking the curse of his soul, and because of that, he still couldn’t help seeing her as a mother figure, he still held her dear.

The only remaining shadow in their quiet evenings together was what Joyce thought of his growing involvement with Buffy. She hadn’t mentioned it since she had asked him to leave her daughter alone; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know if she had changed her mind.

*****

Night after night passed, and increasingly it grew harder for Angel to remember _why_ he had left Sunnydale and Buffy. Hard to recall why he had ever thought leaving her would be for the best.

He had a lot to do in Los Angeles. A city that big needed people like him to protect its nights. Or so he tried to repeat to himself whenever the temptation resurfaced to return to Sunnydale. Which was becoming more and more often.

He did return, one night not even a month after he had left. Thought about it all day, drove out as soon as the sun had set, probably broke a few traffic laws, and arrived on the Hellmouth in time to see his ex-girlfriend laugh as she patrolled with his grand-childe. The bitterness left a bad taste in his mouth and crescent-shaped cuts in his palms from his nails. He had to fight both himself and his demon not to intervene. Quietly repeating over and over that he had given up the right to say anything, he managed to walk away and was back in Los Angeles before morning.

A good bottle of whisky helped. For a little while, at least.

*****

“You fight like a girl.”

A snort and a double kick later, Spike was sprawled in the grass on his back, Buffy standing over him with her hands on her hips and laughter in her eyes.

“Really?” she said in feigned shock. “Could that be because _I am_ a girl?”

He smirked at her, taking a second to rediscover that she was indeed a girl. Or rather, a woman. Lovely curves, beautiful smile, and a body he so wished to explore.

“Ah, but you’re not just a girl,” he drawled. “You’re the Slayer.”

He punctuated his last words with a swipe of his foot. She jumped, narrowly avoiding the impact. The next second, he was standing and they were dancing again, taunting each other between blows, trading puns as well as punches.

Every few days, whenever the night was quiet and vamp-free, they sparred together. No holds barred, they had each inflicted bruises on the other during these training sessions, but they both needed this. Buffy because she wanted to remain in top form, Spike because combining his two favorite things – a good fight and the Slayer – was just too good to pass.

He wished it never had to end.

*****

The end of the summer was here, and Buffy could hardly believe it. A few more days and she would be moving out of her mother’s house and into a dorm. She was very excited by the prospect.

She had thought that Angel leaving her would make her summer vacation terrible – too much time to think and brood, too little to do. But it hadn’t been that bad. She still thought of him of course, sometimes wondering what he was doing, sometimes cursing him for going away. As a whole though, it didn’t hurt as much as it had when she had first lost him to Acathla a year before.

Had it only been a year? It felt more like ten. So much had happened, in these few months. So much had changed.

So much, actually, that she felt ready to move on. Get back on the dating scene. Find someone who could love her, someone she could love.

She had suspicions – very heavy suspicions, increasingly leaning toward certainty – that Spike was only waiting for a sign from her to declare his feelings.

The problem was that she simply wasn’t sure it was wise to move on to another vampire.

*****

__  
Three months of nightly patrols with her after Angel had left. A summer’s worth of falling a little deeper each night if that was even possible. With, every now and then, guests for the evening, sometimes Giles, sometimes Red and her wolf. Thankfully, Harris was off on his little road trip thing, so we didn’t have the displeasure of his company. Not that I couldn’t stand the boy but… Alright, so maybe I couldn’t stand him. Who could blame me?

_He had gotten along pretty well with my souled self, but the soulless me sent chills down his back. Of all of them, I think he was the one who had the hardest time coming to grips with the fact that a vampire doesn’t need a soul to play nice with humans. Only takes proper motivation. It took me years to finally understand why he couldn’t get it – and I think it was a revelation for him too. Something to do with a childhood friend being turned and coming after him. Nothing I could do about that; he had to work through his own issues. We’re getting along, now. Not best friends and we’ll never be that, but we’re not at each other’s throats either._

_Red and wolf-boy? Not as judgmental. Then again, seeing what he has inside him, they weren’t well placed to throw stones. Red used to allude at giving me my soul back, saying how much better her spells were and things of that nature; but I eventually got through to her that I wasn’t interested. Or at the very least I thought I had gotten through to her._

_Now, the Watcher was something else. Overprotective for a while, present night after night, watching her more than me, as if he expected her to collapse or something. Then, when it became clear she was fine, and that Faith’s fate, her own near death, the Ascension, Angel’s departure, hadn’t driven her around the bend, his focus changed. His patrols with us became less frequent, but I could tell that when he tagged along he was observing my actions and recording my words. He admitted it, later on, and confirmed my suspicions as to why he had been watching me so closely. At the time, it both amused and annoyed me. Amused, because Buffy was oblivious, and thought that she was the one he was keeping an eye on; annoyed, because I enjoyed my nights with her too much to appreciate someone standing between us._

_The other one keeping a concerned eye on me was Joyce. She never mentioned again that Buffy deserved to have a normal, vampire free life, but I could see it in her eyes, sometimes. Might be why I didn’t go there as often anymore. Dawn wasn’t happy about it, protesting in her not always subtle ways that I saw Buffy every night yet I barely ever came to see her. Truth was, I…_

_And we’re there again, aren’t we? Truth was, she wasn’t there at all. Truth was, then or now, I care for her as I would a younger sister. I guess I’ll never know if I care about her because the monks made me, or because of reasons that were mine only. Whatever the cause, the results were the same, for better or for worse._

_Buffy, through it all, confused me as much as she confused herself. She didn’t want me invited into her house, but she didn’t seem to mind me having a cuppa with her mom or kid sister. She fought with me, laughed with me, but always when she smiled too much she’d snap back, as if startled by her own actions. And I… I just waited for her to be ready._

_It still amazes me that, for so long, I was content with simply patrolling with her, when inside I was screaming for a touch of her skin, the feel of her body, the taste of her. Every night, when we said goodbye, I returned to my crypt and reached for some cold, lonely relief. Every night it was her image dancing behind my eyelids as I climbed toward pleasure; her name on my lips when I finally found it._

_I’m not the most patient of vampires. Never was, never will be. But I had it in my mind that if I rushed her, if I tried to push her when she wasn’t ready for me, she’d fall in my arms, yes, but still dream of another vamp, souled, that one, instead of seeing me. Because I couldn’t stand that thought, I managed to wait, be patient, give her time to discover who I was, who I could be._

_She soon did. Or so I thought._

_It’s almost funny how wrong I was. It wasn’t going to be that easy. Far from it._

_So go ahead, tell the sad tale of this old fool. Just try not to make me look like a ponce, would you?_


	2. Like A Caress

_“You fight like a girl.”_  
  
The words echoed through Buffy’s mind long after the vampiress had uttered them, when the only sound left was of her feet hitting the pavement.

Buffy was running away. It hadn’t happened very often in her life, her running away from a fight, but right now she couldn’t do anything else, and she couldn’t have explained why she was, except for that feeling of inadequacy, settled deep down in her soul. College was such a different world; only a few hours and already she felt like she didn’t belong. When she saw how fast and how well Willow had adapted, it certainly made her wonder what was wrong with her. Was she even made to go to college? What was the point of a Slayer getting an education anyway? Troubled by school, her mind hadn’t been on the fight; retreat had felt like the only option.

Heart beating too fast, vision still reddened by shame, she didn’t see the vampire until she ran straight into him. Lucky for him, she didn’t have a stake, or she might have dusted him without meaning to.

The force of the impact sent both of them down. Buffy wasn’t exactly surprised when she extricated herself from the leather-clad form to realize it was Spike. He had an amazing ability to find her, and as far as she knew, had never failed to do so until now.

“Missed me that much?” he asked with a light smile. 

Part of her wanted to roll her eyes at him; another part wanted to have the good cry she needed so much against his welcoming shoulder. She had done it before, on prom night; what was wrong with doing it again? Then she realized why Sunday’s words had struck a chord in her. Spike had said the same thing to her a couple of weeks back when they had been sparring. But while he had been teasing her, Sunday had meant every word and had made her believe them. Both of them were vampires and they had said the same words, but such a difference between them…

“Slayer?” Spike said as he stood. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He offered his hand to help her up and she took it without thinking, letting out a small gasp when her injured arm throbbed in pain.

“Not a ghost,” she muttered as she cradled her arm. “Just a vamp.”

He took a good look at her, serious now. The dubious flash on his face matched his voice.

“A vamp? There was a new Master in town? I didn’t hear anything about that.”

The admission was almost as painful as her wounded arm, but she made herself meet his eyes as she replied.

“I don’t think she’s a Master. Just a regular vampire and a few groupies.”

She stopped herself before adding that she had staked hundreds of vampires like her in the past without breaking a sweat.

“Is? You didn’t stake her then? What happened? You fell into a trap? Do you want me to take care of it?”

The too many questions irritated Buffy, and she had to grind her teeth not to snap at the vampire. She appreciated his concern, really, as well as his offer of help, far different from Giles’ coldness earlier that afternoon. But to explain to him what had happened, to even think about accepting his help was like salt on an open wound; her pride wouldn’t allow her to do either.

“She just took me by surprise, OK?” she said more harshly than she meant to. “I’ll take care of her myself. I just need a good night of sleep and I’ll be right as rain. I don’t need your help.”

His face closed as she spoke, shutting out all expression or feelings. As she finished, he gave her a small nod and turned his back on her, walking away before she could add anything.

She watched him go, and realized it hurt her to have hurt him. All he wanted was to help, just like he had done all summer long, like he had done for more than a year, and with a few words she had managed to send away her strongest ally. It shouldn’t have upset her that much. It never did when she had a few heated words with her friends – and Spike was her friend, wasn’t he? Nothing more.

Head low, she returned to her dorm and her snoring roommate, her mind filled with two many vampires, friend and foe. She would need to do something about them, about both Spike and Sunday. The problem was, do what?

*****

As Spike stormed away from the Slayer, curses each more colorful and graphic than the last ran through his mind, some of them passing his lips in unintelligible mutterings. Most targeted her – the ungrateful, snotty, better than thee little bitch. At least, he had managed to hold his tongue and not get into a shouting match with her. But a fair share of the invectives was directed inward. He hadn’t changed one bit since the nineteenth century. He was still the same foolish idiot. How could he have thought for a second that she was mellowing? How could he have believed that he was making any progress at all with her? If she could treat him like that, refuse his help, his concern, when she was so obviously in need of both, then didn’t it mean…

Sudden realization stopped him dead in his tracks; and he actually stilled on the sidewalk for a few seconds. She had refused his help against what she had said was nothing but a regular vampire. It didn’t mean she didn’t want him to help at all anymore. It simply meant that she was being herself. The Buffy he had fallen in love with. Strong. Determined. Not ready to give up after a small misstep. He couldn’t fault her for being what he loved her for, could he?

She had been in a bad mood, and one way or another he’d get an apology for her crabbiness toward him, but that would be the end of it. Nothing more to say, except for a comment about how hot she was when she fought, maybe. Because he certainly intended to keep an eye on her when she fought that ‘Sunday’ again. What a bloody ridiculous name for a vamp…

His bad temper slightly abated, Spike started walking again; his steps now had a goal. The Slayer was hurt, so she probably wouldn’t be fighting anymore tonight. He could have gone on a quick patrol by himself, work the tension out of his body, but a drink or two would work just as well for that, and he still could get a couple of dustings at the Bronze.

A few pool games later, he had relieved a couple of coeds from enough of their money to last him a few days and was playing alone, half mindedly practicing as his thoughts drifted, as they always did, toward the Slayer. Maybe he ought to up the stakes with her, so to speak. Make it clearer that he was patient for now, but he wasn’t going to wait forever. Force her to take a risk, and see what could come out of it. He had been patient, during the summer, maybe too much. If she thought he’d always be there, maybe she’d never make a move. It was a thought to ponder.

Even deep in his planning, he still noticed the human boy at the bar talking to a girl who obviously wasn’t interested, and couldn’t help smirking to himself when Xander was left talking into thin air. Somehow, the boy noticed him too at that exact moment, and his scowl added to Spike’s fun.

As he kept playing his lonely game, Spike kept an eye on the boy, noticing with increasing amusement the nervous glances and the repeated touches to his hip where Spike could have sworn a stake was tucked. To his surprise, just as he was finishing a game and was setting up for a new one, Xander approached, drink in one hand, the other one once more near to the hidden stake.

“Whelp,” Spike greeted him with a grin.

“Bleach boy,” Xander replied, seemingly untouched by the insult. “I suppose if you’re not dust yet that means you’re still on our side?”

Repressing a chuckle, Spike merely let his grin widen. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Xander shook his head, picked up a queue and motioned to the table with it, inviting Spike to play the first shot.

“Actually, I do know,” he said with fake casualness. “Talked to Giles, made sure everyone was alright and that you hadn’t gone all Spikelus on us.”

The ridiculousness of the name startled Spike, making him miss his carefully aligned shot. He glared at the human as he left his spot, pondering his words and attitude, coming to a clear conclusion.

“You still don’t trust me,” he commented. “So what are you doing here?”

Xander merely glanced at him before playing.

“I’m trying to understand why you’re not dust or souled yet. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I still don’t get it.”

Observing the boy play a couple of shots, Spike wondered what was going to come out of this. Probably not much good. But then, he didn’t have anything better to do.

*****

_I was right. Nothing much came out of that night. We played a few games, exchanged a few insults, talked about our summer – although I still suspect he wasn’t truthful about what exactly he did in Oxnard – but in the end, neither of us liked the other any more. He still saw me as a bomb ready to explode at any moment without warning, and I still saw him as the human who could have become my souled-self’s friend. There was a soul – or the lack of one – barring any potential friendship between us. Worse. There was a woman._

_Now it’s time again for one of my little theories. See, from what I hear, Harris had a crush on my Slayer when he first got to know her. She, of course, has good taste, and wouldn’t hear about it. So, he moved on. Found other birds. Settled down. Nevertheless, methinks he never completely got over her, and that’s why he couldn’t stand anyone getting close to her. Or maybe his ‘friendly concern’ was only directed toward us demons._

_I did mention the Slayer’s edginess to him, and we pondered how much stress college could put on her only a couple of days after she had started. He, of course, had no clue. Me… well, I had a little idea, but I wasn’t going to admit anything of the sort, was I? In any case, that must have set his thinking wheels in motion, because the next night he had that whole pep talk ready when Buffy stumbled across him._

_I had opted for the silent stalking act, not wanting her to refuse my help again if she was to fight later that night. So, I observed without being seen as they talked and made plans. It stung that she accepted his help when she hadn’t wanted mine before, but I tried not to see too much in it._

_That’s how, soon enough, they found the lair and Buffy literally fell in. I didn’t think twice then and jumped after her, the stalking part be damned. She didn’t seem too surprised to see me, which made me realize I hadn’t been as discreet as I had thought; but we didn’t have much time to discuss it right then. She took on the leader; I played with the minions and managed not to jump to her help when she looked like she was hurt. It didn’t take very long before we were alone with dust all around us._

_“Good fight,” I told her, and meant it._

_I remember how her face lit up. She likes compliments about the way she looks or dresses, but I’m pretty sure she’s even more susceptible to comments about her fighting skills._

_“You too. And thanks.”_

_A shy little smile fluttered on her lips. You know the one. Lovely. Of course, I couldn’t leave it at that. We still had a score to settle, after all._

_“You’re thanking me? I thought you didn’t want me to help? Maybe I should have let you deal with all of them by yourself.”_

_Deep down, I was sure she wouldn’t have had much more trouble with a few added minions to stake, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t play._

_“Right, about that…”_

_She was embarrassed now. Still cute, but her smile was gone, and she wouldn’t meet my eyes._

_“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she eventually admitted. “I was a bit cranky last night and took it out on you for no other reason than you were there.”_

_I remained still as she came closer, as she reached for my hand and held it loosely in hers, as she finally looked up at me. I’m not sure if I was immobile because of the shock or because I was afraid to scare her, make her stop. Maybe a bit of both?_

_“I do appreciate everything you do to help me,” she continued, very quiet now. “And I think I understand why you do it, and I…well, I…”_

_A small, hesitant hand settled at the back of my head and pulled me down gently toward her._

_Our first kiss was like a caress, mouth becoming acquainted, tongues not daring yet to do much more than lightly touch the seam of our lips. One of her hand holding mine, the other on my neck, I reached out to wrap my free arm around her and pull her a little closer – not too close, not too fast – and she complied easily. With her so tantalizingly close, with her supple lips against mine, it felt almost like a dream. It was soft and slow and unlike anything I had experienced before. It was perfect._

_And because it was perfect, I didn’t really mind when noise of the cavalry arriving made her take a step back with an apologetic look. It was all new, I told myself, all ours, no need or reason to tell anyone quite yet._

_I helped her and the others carry her stuff back to the dorm, and when I told her I’d see her the next night, she gave me that shy little smile again. It was a long night, and an even longer day, until I saw her again. But I had the memory of the beautiful kiss – and the hopes for many more – to sustain me._


	3. Getting There

Willow wasn’t even yet out of sight before Spike was appearing from behind a tree. Smiling at his predictability, Buffy shook her head. He had been there to patrol with her every night, but since the end of the summer, he rarely showed himself unless she was alone. He had grudgingly admitted that he didn’t like Willow’s frequent hints of restoring his soul safely and for good. Instead, he preferred to stay out of sight and out of the her mind.

“You could have said hi to her,” she chastised him. “Why the stalking act?”

He shrugged, his grin deepening ever so slightly. “Just honing my hunting skills, luv. So, what’s up with that roomie of yours? Heard you saying she was a pain?”

“Kathy? A pain? No, she’s just on her way to driving me nuts, that’s all.”

Spike chuckled, and Buffy relaxed a little.

“Want me to get rid of her for you?”

She didn’t need to see his grin to know he was joking; it didn’t even enter her mind that he might not be. She punched his shoulder lightly as she took a mock lecturing tone.

“Don’t joke about that, mister, or I might have to take your claim that you’re still the Big Bad seriously.”

He laughed and started to say something, but running steps and a cheerful exclamation interrupted him. Buffy looked back to see Kathy approach them, smiling brightly and a little out of breath.

“Hey, I caught you!”

Immediately, the girl’s gaze left Buffy and settled on Spike. Buffy tried not to grind her teeth as she noticed the appreciative look Spike was receiving.

“You needed something?” she asked, her tone dripping with sugar.

“Well, just thought I’d join you for that latte after all. You and…?”

Another look by her roommate toward Spike, and Buffy scowled. If she thought…

At the same instant, Buffy and Spike turned in the direction of an approaching growling sound. Without thinking, Buffy pushed Kathy in a nearby bush and out of the path of a charging demon. Against both her and Spike, the demon didn’t stand a chance; but because they got in each other’s way, it managed to escape. After a quick look at Buffy, Spike ran after it, leaving her to deal alone with Kathy.

“What the blizzard was that all about?” the clueless girl exclaimed, sounding quite annoyed. “And why did your friend go away?”

“He… uh… ran after that guy who tried to… uh… take my backpack.”

Kathy gave her a suspicious look

“That sounds dangerous. Although he looked like he can take care of himself. What’s his name again? Is he just a friend? You did say you don’t have a boyfriend, didn’t you?”

It was very, very difficult for Buffy to keep a calm appearance when inside she was boiling. She could see already her roommate trying to make a move on _her_ vampire, and that just wouldn’t do.

“Actually,” she said in her sweetest voice, “we are getting there.”

The ‘back off’ was implied, but Kathy seemed to catch it, if Buffy was to judge by her narrowing eyes and small nod.

“We’d better get back to the dorm,” she suggested, firmly intending to go find Spike as soon as she had gotten rid of her annoying companion.

She hadn’t been completely lying. Spike and she were definitely on their way to something. On their way to what was the real question. It frightened her, sometimes, to see how fast all of it was going. Only a few nights before, they had shared their first kiss. A delicious, tender and oh so soft first kiss. And each night since, they had parted with kisses and touches that were becoming increasingly hotter, increasingly sexier, and increasingly passionate. She wanted more; and each night it was harder to let him go, especially when it was obvious he wanted more too. That he wasn’t rushing her only added to her desire. She knew he wasn’t exactly the most patient of men, and his willingness to wait for her to be ready meant that much more.

She wanted him, and yet…

That nasty little voice at the back of her mind never forgot to remind her that he was a vampire and she didn’t have the excuse of a soul to make it all OK. He was patrolling with her every night and claiming not to feed; but how could she be sure he wasn’t, after all? What proof did she have, other than his word and her intuition? She wanted to believe him, so she wasn’t exactly unbiased in all of this.

Then, there was the other nagging voice. The one that asked questions Buffy had no clue how to answer. Whether she really was falling for him or the image of the good vampire, or was she still just trying to get over Angel, or…

The glimpse of too blonde hair at the edge of her vision had Buffy sending Kathy ahead under the first excuse that came to her mind. Spike joined her as soon as she was alone, shaking his head dejectedly.

“Lost him. The bugger just kind of disappeared on me, no clue…”

She pressed two fingers across his lips, stopping him.

“It’s OK,” she reassured him. “I’ll go see Giles tomorrow and see if he can figure out what it was. We’ll catch it next time.”

She might have been imagining things, but she could have sworn there had been a flicker of gold in his eyes when she said ’we’. She would have dismissed the thought as ludicrous, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened. And each time it did, butterflies started rioting in her stomach, and she wanted all at once to step back and get closer to him.

He caught her wrist just as she was pulling her hand away from his face and brought it back gently to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand before sliding it to rest on his cheek.

“Back to patrolling?” he asked quietly. “Or did you have something else in mind?”

What she had in mind consisted in getting back to her room before Kathy decided to come look for her again; but as Spike gently led her off the trail where a cluster of trees would hide them from curious eyes, she didn’t protest. She didn’t complain either as his mouth found hers, the tentativeness of their first kisses forgotten as his tongue slipped past her lips to entangle with hers. She only moaned her assent when his hands ran up along her arms, down the sides of her body, touching the sides of her breast in what was his boldest move to date.

Sliding her hands under heavy leather, she clutched his shirt and pulled his body closer, wanting to feel all of him, to know how much she was affecting him. A thumb brushed against her already peaking nipple, and she gasped in surprise, breaking the kiss. His mouth was immediately back on her, soft lips pressing tiny wet kisses along her jaw, clever tongue drawing lines of want on her skin as he slid down her throat. A hint of teeth against the so sensitive marks on her throat had her moaning and she wanted to pull him even closer if that was possible.

Her eyes opened wide in shock, and she instinctively pushed him away. A vampire was nibbling her throat and she was encouraging him? What the hell was wrong with her?

Without thinking, she brought her hand to her neck, gingerly stroking the scars. She knew he hadn’t bitten her, but she had to check for herself that her skin was whole, that she hadn’t let him do it again.

“I wouldn’t…” he started, but she stopped him, refusing to listen, certain she would believe him too easily and unwilling to do so at that instant.

“I… I have to go. I have class early tomorrow. Need to catch some sleep.”

“Buffy…”

It was so rare for him to say her name that she stopped in her tracks and gave him a hesitant smile.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “We’re fine. I just… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, she practically fled, scared witless because, precisely, she wasn’t scared of him.

*****

Mumbling half-hearted curses, Spike left the university campus, his hands, his lips, hell his whole body still warm from Buffy’s heat. It had been going perfectly well, kisses and fleeting touches, hard breathing and quiet moans. Then, he had ruined it. Without pausing to think for a second, he had followed the line of her jaw with small licks and kisses, and then descended along her neck until he had found these two faint marks he had left there months ago.

The barest hint of blunt teeth and she had bolted out of his arms, eyes wide as saucers, heart beating even faster now. He had tried to apologize, reassure her that he hadn’t been going to hurt her, but she had practically run away, promising that she was fine, everything was fine, she’d see him the next night, but fleeing nonetheless.

If she would only let him show her… Bite scars could be very erogenous, if given the proper attention, and even more so if touched by the same vampire who had created them. He would show her, eventually, and she would beg for more. But until then…

Until then, he was back on the slow track. Back to giving her the time and space she needed. Which also left him with enough time to keep on with his search. But before that, he certainly could use a drink or two; and if they came with a bit of violence to soothe his nerves, it would be even better.

He noticed the girl on the dancing floor as soon as he had settled down at the bar. Blonde, smiling too brightly; he was sure he had seen her before, and he idly tried to remember when and why in his mind he was seeing her dead. When she easily lured her dance partner outside, Spike sighed in recognition and followed. Graduation day. She was one of the kids who hadn’t survived.

He stopped her before she could get her dinner, advised the boy to get out of here if he wanted to live, and then played with the stake in his hand as he observed the irate vampiress.

*****

_Why didn’t I stake Harmony? God knows that would have saved me a lot of aggravation if I had just done it that first night. The girl’s a bloody airhead, annoying, and impossible to stop once she starts babbling nonsense, and…_

_Again, why didn’t I just stake her?_

_It’s hard to admit, but I might have felt a tad guilty about her having been turned. If I had done a better job at the Mayor’s Ascension, maybe she wouldn’t have been killed._

_Yeah, I know. No soul, so where was that guilt coming from? From being too much around humans? From beginning to see things through their eyes? From having had a soul not that long before? I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. Nevertheless, normal or not, the guilt was there and I couldn’t ignore it._

_Also, she amused me. Alright, what can I say, it was nice to have someone look at me in awe and think I was still the Big Bad. I didn’t get much of that, these days. Apparently, she also remembered me from the Ascension, but had this strange notion that I had been fighting with the Mayor’s troops, not against them. Because of that, because I had supposedly survived the big fight against the Slayer, she decided that I could serve as some sort of guide to her. A mentor._

_Go ahead and laugh. I laughed too. Shouldn’t have though. She started following me like a puppy, blabbering away, only leaving me alone when I threatened to stake her. And yet, I still didn’t. She was just one vamp, out of many, many more, and I didn’t feel like it would make much of a difference whether I staked her or not. Well, I was wrong; but I wouldn’t know that for a year or so._

_I was wrong also about Buffy. So wrong. I thought that my little surprise would make all the difference, that once I could walk in the sun with her we’d be inseparable. She didn’t care about that. She was surprised, of course, when I showed up on campus during the day to see her, to be with her, but it didn’t make a difference. By then we were already lovers, and…_

_What?_

_Oh. Right. Shouldn’t say too much about that already, should I? So, what else do you want me to say? Want me to talk about the Slayer’s roommate? Right then. She was a demon from whatever dimension, and the gang wouldn’t believe it when the Slayer told them. I did and that earned me some nice smooching when it was all over. Red almost caught us making out when she brought her stuff over to move in; I’m thinking she might have started suspecting something was going on between us right then._

_It went on like that for a few more days. Heavy flirting, knowing it would go further than that eventually and taking our time to get there. Even going on a couple of… can I say dates? Was it what it was? Neither of us dared to say the word at that time, neither would dare for quite a while, but what was going for an ice cream after patrol if not a date? How about going together to a frat party?_

_Yeah, I went to a frat party. I’m as surprised by it as you are, believe me._

_Anyway. Open dates or not, being with her was intoxicating. Still is even today, actually. I was drunk on her and couldn’t see any of the signs. My waking up was going to be… interesting.  
_


	4. Murmurs

Dingoes Ate My Baby was on stage and playing, but for once Willow’s attention wasn’t on the band – or more accurately, not on Oz. She had decided that tonight she would try to have Buffy open up to her about Spike. If there was a chance that one of these days Willow would enter the dorm room to find her roommate engaged in intimate activities with someone – anyone at all – she at least wanted to have some advance warning. Also, she was supposed to be Buffy’s best friend. Wasn’t that something best friends shared?

“So, is Spike coming?”

Buffy seemed startled but she gave an affected shrug.

“Spike?” she repeated. “I don’t know. Why would he?”

“Well,” Willow said carefully, observing Buffy’s reactions closely, “he seems to have been avoiding the Scoobies, lately, but from what you say you two have become inseparable.”

Was there suddenly more redness in Buffy’s cheeks?

“Inseparable?” she laughed feebly. “Nah, we’re just patrol buddies. It’s cool to have someone tagging along when you guys can’t be there.”

Alright. It was time to bring out the big guns. Guilt with a side of kicked puppy eyes.

“Buffy? You’d tell me if there was something between you and Spike, right? I mean, you’re my best friend, so I know you, and I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Buffy squirmed in her seat, and Willow knew she had won even before her friend opened her mouth.

“There isn’t much to tell, really,” she started hesitantly, and Willow gave her an encouraging smile. “I think he’s attracted to me, and I… I…”

“You’re having lusty wrong feelings?” Willow whispered, grinning widely.

There was definitely a blush there, and it was certainly more truthful than Buffy’s quiet denial. Willow realized exactly what she had said and how it must have sounded. She hadn’t meant to imply that it was wrong to feel this kind of things for Spike.

“Of course, they're not wrong feelings,” she added quickly, “’cause you're free, you're both grown-ups. You are free, right?”

Was she? Was Buffy free of Angel and everything he had meant to her? Willow hoped she was, she didn’t want her friend to hurt any more. Buffy seemed to hear the unasked question and answered with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m free. Maybe even too free. I’m not sure what I feel exactly. I mean, attracted, yes, but can it be more than that? Can I even go down that road again?”

“Can you love again?” Willow tried to clarify, frowning. “Why couldn’t you? You deserve to love and be loved, and…”

“No, that’s not it,” Buffy interrupted her gently. “I’m sure I could love again if I found the right person. The problem is, can the right person ever be a vampire?”

Willow was about to point out that it had been in the past, so why not again, when she realized that maybe that was the problem.

“Spike isn’t Angel, Buffy. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she replied with a sigh. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

The band had stopped playing, and from the corner of her eye, Willow could see that Oz would soon join them. She doubted Buffy would still want to talk then, so she hurried to say:

“You know I’ll always be there for you, don’t you? Vamp or not, I just want you to be happy.”

A huge grin, grateful and maybe a little relieved, split Buffy’s face as she reached over to hug her friend, and Willow returned it sincerely, happy that she had found the words Buffy apparently had needed to hear.

*****

Dust filled the crypt’s air, but Spike couldn’t have cared less; instead, he was humming random bits of songs as he kept working. It would definitely have been a lot faster if he had had minions working for him, but he was finally reaching the end of his hunt. Or so he hoped.

He had started his search during the summer, at first without much conviction, to fill out his too long days. The legend was old, and many vampires had spent decades looking for the gem; but as the clues had begun forming a pattern, Spike had started believing that maybe, just maybe, there would be a reward at the end of his quest. A reward in the form of a shiny bauble that would allow him to share the Slayer’s sun. She was going to be so surprised… he couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

Right now, he couldn’t wait to see her. Period. The previous night had only been a short, too short, patrol and a few stolen kisses, nothing more. Tonight, however, promised to be more interesting. She had suggested that they go to a frat party together. He had first wanted to scoff at the idea – the only interesting thing in this kind of gatherings was the food, and he was on a self-imposed animal blood diet – but on second thought, he had agreed to it. It would be their first time being together in a public place where people might recognize her; he wanted to see it as an encouraging sign, a sign that she was ready to step up to the next level of their relationship, and, maybe…

Looking down at himself, he snorted. The maybes would undoubtedly be very few if he showed up for this party covered in gray dust and grime. Yet, he had to be so close…

With a regretful look at his digging, he abandoned his tools and sauntered back to the tunnel linking this crypt to his own by a few hundred yards of sewers. In no time, he was back home, had taken advantage of his makeshift shower, and had slipped into clean jeans and t-shirt. A slight hesitation where the button up was concerned, and he picked that royal purple shirt he had noticed she seemed to like. Before leaving the lower level room, he cleaned up a little, stacking everything that had been lying on the floor into a box that he pushed behind a chair, straightening the sheets and comforter on the bed, and lightning a couple of pillar candles, just in case. If tonight was the night, he wanted it to be perfect. Unforgettable.

He waited upstairs, pacing back and forth, until he could feel the sun sinking below the horizon. Then he was out, already smiling as he directed his steps toward the university campus.

*****

Banging the crypt’s door shut behind her, Buffy glared at Spike. Or rather, she glared at Spike’s back. He was walking away from her and to his fridge, from which he pulled a bottle of what in all likelihood was alcohol. He took a swig before he looked back at her and raised his eyes to the ceiling’s spider webs, clearly annoyed. It only infuriated Buffy a little more.

“So, are you going to explain yourself?” she demanded, very close to shouting, as she walked farther in with her hands firmly set on her hips.

The display of feminine anger didn’t seem to touch him in the slightest.

“Explain what?” he drawled, setting his bottle down on the sarcophagus and strolling toward her.

He was trying to gain time, she knew it; and she didn’t appreciate his game at all.

“Harmony,” she barked. “Vampire. Not staked. Why?”

“Because she makes a pathetic vamp?” he offered, head tilted to the side, and took a step closer to her. She stepped back; her heart was beating wildly. Because she was angry, she told herself, not because his presence, so close, was affecting her in any way.

“Pathetic or not, she’s still a vamp. She kills. And from what I understand you had the chance to dust her and didn’t. So why?”

Harmony’s heated voice was still clear in her ears. They had come across her at the frat party; and while Buffy had still been registering the fact that she was a vampire, Harmony had begun blabbering that Spike was hers and shouldn’t be around Slayers, and nonsense of the sort.

Spike came close again, and this time she raised a hand in front of her, trembling fingers stopping him. He shook his head and turned on his heel, making a straight line back to the bottle on the sarcophagus.

“Why didn’t I stake her?” he snarled. “The hell if I know! Because it would have been so easy, it would have been a shame? Because I fight to get off, and there was no fucking challenge in staking her?”

Once more, he was back to her; the irritation in his voice had disappeared, replaced by honey.

“Why don’t you ask what you really want to know, luv. You don’t care that I staked her or not. At least, not in the dusty kind of way. Do you?”

She felt her cheeks begin to burn, and tried to protest to whatever he was implying, but his body, too close, was making it very hard to think.

“You want to know if I fucked her?” he continued in a whisper, his lips barely brushing the shell of her ear. “Admit it, luv, you’re jealous.”

That was utterly ridiculous; there was no way on this earth that she would ever be jealous of Harmony Kendall.

“Jealous?” she snorted, jerking back. “Of Harmony? Over you? Full of yourself much?”

She didn’t know what happened. One second, they were glaring at each other, the tension thick enough that violence hung in the air; the next they were wrapped in each other’s arms, mouths devouring, tongues battling.

Their making out had become increasingly fervent in the past days, but this… this was beyond anything Buffy had felt in a long, long time. Beyond anything she had ever felt.

Frantic hands tugged at clothes and there was some tearing, but Buffy couldn’t summon the force to care about her new blouse falling in two pieces on the floor. Not when Spike’s mouth was on her still covered breast, sucking and nibbling through the soaked material of her bra; and all she could do was hold on to him as her knees threatened to buckle.

She wanted to cry out in protest when he pulled back, but the words died in her throat when she met his eyes that burned with a passion so bright it seared her to the bones. Again, his mouth was on hers, as were his hands, strong hands hoisting her up. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning against his lips when she felt his erection, pressing against her needy flesh. She tried to rock herself up and down against him and he groaned in what was most certainly appreciation, but as good as the friction was, it wasn’t enough, far from it, because of the layers of clothes still separating them.

“Too many clothes,” she commented, breathless.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

She expected him to let her down, but instead he walked to the entrance of the crypt’s lower level; she shrieked in surprise when he jumped down.

She unhooked her legs from behind him and slowly lowered them to the floor, but she kept her arms tight around his neck. What they were doing, what they were going to do, had suddenly struck her, and she could feel the fear creeping up. He seemed to catch on to her change of mood and stroked her back as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Slayer? Can’t say I’d be happy to stop now, but if that’s what you want…”

What she wanted? What was it that she wanted exactly? She wasn’t so sure, she wasn’t sure of much these days, where Spike was concerned. Maybe this was the way to figure it out…

She let go of the tight hold she had on his neck; and she could see him, feel him, tensing already, probably thinking that she was stopping everything. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and reached out for the hem of his t-shirt. He helped her pull it off, before lightly taking hold of her hands and leading them to his bare chest. She caressed lightly, watching the shivers rippling under the path of her fingers, daring at last to look up at him. The same passion that had been burning earlier was still there, but contained now. Thankful, she leaned up to brush her lips against his.

He took the chaste kiss as permission to continue and ran his hands down her arms and to her back, where he made short work of her bra. Instinctively, she wanted to cover herself, but he seemed to guess that and took hold of her wrists, pressing them to his chest until he was sure she wouldn’t move. He unzipped her pants as he led her backward, pushing the fabric and her panties downward. The back of her knees brushed the edge of a mattress and she followed his lead and sank down. He pulled away her shoes and pants, leaving her naked, and blushing.

“You’re beautiful, you know that luv?”

The hint of his fingers on her chin tilted her head up, and she could do nothing but believe him as she saw those feelings reflected on his features. Again, the threat of fear, of too many questions lurked, and she pushed it away by reaching for the fastenings of his jeans. She was almost surprised that her hands weren’t trembling; that he was.

Soon enough he was naked, gloriously so, and her only thought as her gaze traced the beautiful lines of his body, well defined muscles, proud cock, was to pull him to her, against her, in her, feel all of him, make him hers.

The caress of cool flesh against her burning skin was delightful, and she tried to give back as much as he was offering, stroking, massaging, kissing. If she noticed that he was staying clear of her neck, she was too caught up in the moment to reflect on it.

When he first slipped into her, she shut her eyes tight, overwhelmed by the sensations, her body on the edge of falling back into memories. Light kisses pressed to her face, the insistent murmur of her name, incited her to open her eyes again, and she was almost surprised to discover blue eyes above her.

However, when he started moving into her, slow waves at first, increasing tempest as she urged him on, there was no doubt any more whose arms she was in.

Her first orgasm took her by surprise, but much less than Spike’s murmured words of love when, later that night, she slid into sleep.

*****

_She wasn’t the first woman I had ever slept with, of course. Hell, she wasn’t even the first human. Yet if I close my eyes and try to summon lovemaking memories, it’s invariably her that comes back to my mind. And not one of our many others, but our first time._

_It’s her body that I see undulating under me, graceful and sexual, glistening in the light of candles that almost made her glow. She had the most glorious body and I told her repeatedly that I’d never get enough of seeing her. She seemed to forget she was nude, or she didn’t care any more, and I drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst would welcome a fountain._

_It’s the silk of her skin that I feel under my fingers, so soft and yet with the unmistakable presence of muscles just below, so strong. Steel and silk, strength and caresses, the Slayer and the girl. My Slayer. My girl._

_It’s the tang of her sweat that I taste on my tongue, reminiscing, somehow, of her blood, but with the added flavors of want and passion that made it almost better._

_It’s her scent that I breathe, lust and sex, with my own mixed to it._

_It’s her voice and murmured pleas._

_It’s…_

_Fuck._

_Can’t do it._

_Don’t ask me to, I can’t._

_You know why, so please don’t insist._

_…_

_Thank you._


	5. Burning Light

Spike was drifting between sleep and consciousness when the warm lover nestled against his chest moved and smoothly slipped out of his embrace. He stirred and, cracking an eye open, watched her stand and pick up her clothes. Hell, she was glorious.

“’Morning, luv,” he purred as he rolled over, closer to her, close enough to stroke her leg when he reached out. “Leaving?”

She seemed as startled by the touch as she was by the words; but she turned a hesitant smile to him all the while clutching her clothes to her nakedness.

“You said it yourself, it’s morning. Soooo… good morning. Or is it good night? I suppose that’s usually when you get to bed. I wouldn’t want to keep you up. I mean, keep you awake.”

Her babbling was delicious, but not quite as much as her kisses; he sat up and again reached out for her, grabbing her hand this time and pulling her to him. The barest resistance and he was rewarded with a lapful of naked Slayer, her babbling ceasing as she licked her lips.

“Stay?” he requested, punctuating his word with a slow kiss and a suggestive thrust of his hips.

She closed her eyes for a second, and he smiled to himself, his mouth already descending on a perky breast that begged to be suckled. She didn’t let him finish, or rather start again, and instead extricated herself from his arms, rising shakily from the bed. He sighed.

“I… I really have to go,” she stuttered, once more picking up the clothes she had let fall on the floor and putting them on hurriedly. “I have class. Soon. Have to go home and… and…”

He watched her as she looked around the room, clearly searching for something even as she struggled to button her pants with shaky hands. Smoothly, with maybe a tiny bit more stretching than was strictly necessary, he stood and came to her, resting his hands on hers and helping her. God knew he’d much rather have taken her out of her clothes, and it was pretty obvious, too. But if she needed to go… the faster she went, the faster she would come back to him.

“Looking for something, kitten?”

She looked down, embarrassed, and her eyes widened when she realized he was naked in front of her. Blushing brightly, she turned her head, and it was all he could do to refrain from throwing her on the bed and getting rid of everything that hid her from his view.

“My… my blouse. I can’t go out like that.”

His demon stirred at the notion. Of course, she wasn’t going to go out and expose herself so. She was his now.

*****

When she had first awoken, it had taken Buffy a few instants to remember where she was. Then the arm around her waist had tightened, just a little, and everything had come back to her in a blinding flash. The party at the frat house. Her argument with Spike. The making up that had followed.

As the memories had become clearer, she had felt her heart pound increasingly faster in her chest. What had they done? What had _she_ done? Hadn’t it only been a couple of nights ago that she had told Willow she didn’t know what she felt for Spike? Now she had gone and jumped into his arms. Into his bed.

An intense panic had settled in her, and she had tried to leave without Spike’s notice. She had failed, but thankfully, he had not insisted - much - that she stay longer. Thankfully, because she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have given in if he had. And it would have been a bad idea, a terribly bad idea, to continue this without giving it some serious thought. But how could she think seriously about anything when her heartbeat was still pounding from being with him, when she was deliciously sore in all the right places from their night of lovemaking, when she was all too aware that it was his shirt she was wearing as a protection against the chilly morning air?

She couldn’t decide what was worse. That she had slept with a man she was unsure she loved or that this man wasn’t a man but a vampire. A soulless vampire. The same kind of creature it was her duty to slay. The same kind of man who had broken her heart after spending a night with her.

The mere idea of Spike turning evil again, now that he had had her, was threatening to make her gag, and she forcibly reminded herself of his kindness a few moments before. Surely, he would have gone ahead and killed her already if that had been his plan. She was almost to the point of wishing he had attacked her. At least, then, she would have known. The alternative – that he could be playing with her like Angelus once had, wanting to break her mind before he took her life – was unbearable.

She was scared; there was no denying it. She had paid a high price in the past for falling in love with a vampire; and she realized now that she didn’t want to, couldn’t follow that route again, not with all the risks it entailed. She had to stop whatever was happening as soon as possible, before it went too far and she or someone else got hurt.

*****

With a deep and slightly shaky breath, Spike extended his hand toward the sunlight, his body flinching already at the pain that was bound to come.

The new ring on his finger sparkled in the sun.

No pain, no burning, no fire. He laughed.

After his Slayer had left that morning, he hadn’t been able to sleep again, his body and mind still buzzing from the passion he had shared with her. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again. Couldn’t wait to feel her heat warm him. Simply couldn’t wait for her to come back.

He had dressed quickly and returned to his digging. More than ever, he had wanted, needed to find the gem of Amara. And when he had… He was going to go to Buffy, would wait for realization to dawn on her, and tell her, then, that they could now share the sun as they shared the night.

And he had found it. Found a treasure trove, really, but all he was interested in was the gem. There had been some fumbling as he tried on several baubles, unsure of which one was the one he wanted, but now he had his proof, now he knew. Now a new life could begin.

He couldn’t help feeling more than a bit apprehensive as he stepped out of the shadows and into the sun. Lessons learned the hard way over the course of a century would be hard to forget. Yet, it was worth it, beyond what words could express.

He had to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the bright light. Maybe he ought to think about investing in a pair of sunglasses, he thought, amused. It definitely couldn’t hurt his look.

Sunnydale by day… Different. Interesting. Kiddies running around. Couples laughing. People enjoying the sun. None of this underlying tension that was always present at night, even in the most oblivious humans. They might not believe in demons and such, but deep down, something in all of them knew that nighttime was not completely safe; and even when they strolled about without a care, offering themselves and their blood to whoever cared to grab a bite, the strain was there, ignored but present. The change was… refreshing.

And the sun on him… Warmth without pain, colors so much brighter… It was overwhelming. All he needed was someone to share with him this world he was rediscovering.

As he had done so many times by night, he walked through the town and toward the university campus. He was impatient, so impatient to see her… and there she was.

“Listen, Spike, I don’t know how to say this exactly, but I think we’re going too fast.”

His grin wavered. This certainly wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting. He had been lucky enough to have her walk out of her dorm just as he was approaching and had caught her attention easily. But she hadn’t come to curl into his arms as he had imagined, hadn’t even commented on the fact that he was outside – under the shadow of a tree, true, but still outside – during the day. Instead, she was looking incredibly grim and was talking about going too fast. Too fast? He had been waiting for her for months; there was nothing fast about it!

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this, Slayer.”

Oh, he understood too well already but didn’t want to hear it. She sighed and gave him what could have passed for an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, but I need some space. We’ve been around each other every night for a while, and it’s… it’s just too much, too fast. I don’t have the same kind of feeling for you that I think you have for me. I’m really very sorry, Spike.”

Apparently, Spike reflected bitterly, the Slayer’s words could be as fatal to his heart as her stakes. His happiness of the past hours was leaving a taste of ashes in his mouth as he listened to her say… Say what? That it had been a game, for her? That it had meant nothing? That he had only been there to scratch an itch and now his services weren’t required any longer?

Rebuilding piece by piece his countenance – he would sooner stake himself than show her how much she had wounded him, and he had learned long ago the art of acting – he pulled out his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, grateful beyond words that his hands weren’t shaking. The Slayer was still there, waiting for absolution, maybe, or for pleading from him. He was going to give her something very different.

“Explain something to me, luv. What kind of feelings do you think I have for you exactly?”

In the time it took him to take a deep drag on his cigarette and exhale, she blinked, quickly, twice.

“I thought… I mean…”

“Well, I think you got mistaken somewhere,” he said as sweetly as he could manage. “It was never anything more than wanting to have a go with you, and I’m glad to hear it was the same for you. Makes everything simpler, doesn’t it?”

Her head jerked back, as if she had been slapped. The pleasure to know he had hurt her was still nowhere near enough to make up for his own pain.

“You want space?” he continued, spreading his arms wide. “No problem with me. It’s not like I can’t find a better shag before nightfall.”

His words and voice were still the complete opposite of what he felt, but it was worth it. Her expression was priceless, hurt and shame battling for predominance on her features, and it was with cruel joy that he delivered the last blow.

“’Gotta say, I understand now why Angel never cared for seconds. But, I’m sure you’ll improve with practice. Let me know if you want lessons, luv.”

His smirk disappeared the instant he turned his back to her. He flicked the half consumed cigarette to the ground and forced himself to keep walking. Keep walking and not look back. Keep walking and let her burn in hell.

And if his eyes stung, it was from the still foreign brightness of sunlight. Nothing more.

*****

Buffy watched Spike walk away, still frozen in surprise, but humiliation and anger were slowly rising in her and threatening to consume everything. She had been right when fearing that a night with her would change him. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, his true colors had been revealed, and they were as dark as his lack of soul. To think she had worried about hurting his feelings by breaking this off before it could go any further!

There was only one good point to it all, she reflected somberly. At least he was convinced that their night together didn’t mean a thing to her either. And in truth, it didn’t. Not anymore. Not after these hateful words delivered with the most sugary of voices.

She had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before he gave her grounds to stake him. Now that he had gotten what he wanted, he had no reason to continue the charade any longer. She only hoped she could stop him before he hurt anyone. Maybe she ought to track him down once the sun…

Realization finally struck her. The sun. Spike had been waiting for her outside in the middle of the day, under the shifting shadow of a tree, and he had walked off in the sun without burning or hurting in any way.

What the hell was going on?

*****

__  
Ever been given everything your heart desired, so much that it feels like touching heaven? Only to have it brutally ripped away from you, so that you had nothing left but a fading memory?

_It happened to me not once, but twice, so you can trust me when I tell you it hurts like a bitch._  
  
 _It’s a cliché atrocious enough for William the Bloody Poet, but on that day that had been so wonderful - waking up in her arms, finding the ring, taking my first stroll in the sun in more than a century, - my love killed me with a few simple words._

_Such hopes I had had for us after that glorious night. Such pain to discover that it hadn’t meant to her what it had to me. Such anger that I’d let myself be fooled. There weren’t words nasty enough to make her to hurt in return. I never apologized for them. I don’t think I ever will._

_I couldn’t feel the sun warming me anymore as I walked away from her. Couldn’t feel anything at all. I was numb to everything but the all-consuming rage inside me. We had shared hours of passion, but had it really been me she had been with? Or had she seen another vampire every time her eyes had closed in pleasure? Was that why it didn’t matter to her, because it hadn’t been real to begin with?_

_I’ll admit that I may not have been completely rational. It does a bloke in to hear that the woman he loves didn’t care that much for the time she spent in his arms. I took my car, drove down to LA. I was there by nightfall, ready to take out my anger on the one person who had been responsible for my heart troubles for far longer than I cared to remember. The one man whom I knew I had to blame for the hits the Slayer had delivered to me. This time, I swore to myself, I’d be the one walking away from the fight as the winner. This time, Angel was dust._

_Yeah. Right.  
_


	6. Anger, Jealousy, Vengeance. Fun.

“Here. I think I may have it.”

Shifting her gaze from the musty volume on her knees to Giles, Buffy tried not to sigh. They had been on research mode for hours, and she itched to go out and find release in a good fight. Giles however had insisted that she stay in until they knew what was going on with Spike.

“The Gem of Amara,” he announced. “It makes the vampire who wears it immune to sunlight, stake through the heart, and other known ways of...”

Giles’ voice trailed off even as the rest of the Scoobies absorbed the information. Buffy had to struggle not to let her shock show. With her doubts about whether Spike’s diet was still only animal or had now become human blood, the news that he was untouchable was not exactly the best. Then again, after seeing him walk unscathed in the sun, she should have suspected something along those lines.

“So, he’s like, unkillable?” Xander asked, the twitch of his foot revealing just how much the thought made him uncomfortable.

“As long as he wears the gem, yes,” Giles confirmed, throwing a thoughtful glance toward Buffy. “But it doesn’t make him any stronger, or faster, or a better fighter. Just…”

“Just unkillable,” Xander repeated.

“I always thought it was no more than a legend,” Giles continued, now seemingly talking to himself, “but from what this book says…”

A frown barred his forehead and his finger glided down the page as he read further on.

“It might have been hidden in Sunnydale. And if it was…”

“Then Spike found it,” Buffy finished impatiently. “Does it say anything more? Like, does he have any weakness we should know about?”

Eyes turned to Buffy, and she was suddenly very uncomfortable. All she had told them was that she had seen Spike out in the sun; she would be damned if she admitted she had slept with him too.

“But, do we need to know about his weaknesses?” Willow asked, hesitant. “I mean, he’s on our side now, so it’s OK if he’s taking up sunbathing, isn’t it?”

Buffy didn’t need lectures; she was berating herself for that particular mistake quite well enough already. Yet, at the same time, she felt like she had to warn them, just in case.

“We kinda had a little… argument,” she said slowly, with some difficulty.

She had the feeling that they could see right through her, that they knew, but none of them said anything for a few seconds, until Xander commented:

“Right. So we have an invulnerable vamp on our hands, and we’re not so sure which side he’s playing for.”

Oz had the last word, summarizing the situation with his usual acuity. “Fun.”

*****

The office door slammed closed with a bang and Angel’s hope for a quiet evening disappeared. He had sent Cordelia and Doyle home early; they had been so busy for the past few nights that they all needed a break. However, with this new arrival, Angel suspected his night would be less than calm. He had serious doubts that Spike was here for a courtesy visit.

“Spike,” he acknowledged his grandchilde with a nod. “Finally decided to take me up on my offer?”

The younger vampire snorted.

“Your offer? You mean work with you?”

He took a few steps in the lobby, his gaze traveling over the sparsely furnished room.

“I don’t think so, no.”

With a harsh smile, he pulled a stake from his coat’s pocket and advanced toward Angel. A flourish and the stake was back in his pocket.

“What I had in mind was a bit more… dusty.”

Angel’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What game are you playing?” he demanded, his voice coming close to a growl.

Spike’s fist shot straight toward Angel’s face, only to be deflected at the last instant. By pure instinct, Angel lashed back. His foot caught Spike’s middle and sent him stumbling back a few feet.

“I’m not playing anymore,” Spike spat. “I want you out of my life, and this time for good.”

Despite the threatening words, Spike didn’t use the stake. Instead, he punched and kicked, cursing and yelling every so often. For a while, Angel merely parried the attacks, trying to understand what had put Spike in such a rage. He wasn’t going to let himself be dusted, of course, but he was somewhat reluctant to try to dust Spike without knowing what was going on exactly. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but Angel had more reasons to be angry with Spike than the other way around, what with Buffy and…

Then he caught it. Buffy’s scent. On Spike.

For months, he had been telling himself that Buffy wasn’t his concern anymore, that she was free – he had freed her – and could do whatever she pleased. And if what pleased her was Spike, did he have a right to say anything? Evidently not. It didn’t make things easier however.

Enraged despite his good resolutions, he switched from defensive to offensive. The change startled Spike, and Angel managed to trip him to the floor. Throwing himself on his back, he caught both of Spike’s arms and twisted them tight enough that his shoulders threatened to pop out if he moved. Of course – it was Spike, after all – he moved. The sound his shoulder made as it dislocated and his grunts of pain were oddly pleasurable to Angel – and at the same time instantly sobering.

This wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t like him to take pleasure in hurting someone, anyone, whatever the reasons. He tried to calm down, taking a few deep, unnecessary but usually soothing breaths. It didn’t help this time, though, because it only made him more aware of Buffy’s scent on the body underneath him. Raw lust and sex. Unmistakable. Heart wrenchingly painful.

“What are you going to do if I let you go?” he managed to ask despite his tight throat.

The only answer Spike gave was to struggle to free himself, despite the pain and the possibility of more injuries.

“Will you stop that, you idiot!” Angel growled, shaking Spike just enough to get his point across. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Let go of me! You bloody fucking son…”

Ignoring the string of curses, Angel reached down to Spike’s side, tugging the coat free from underneath him until he could retrieve the stake from his pocket. Only then did he stand, immediately taking a few steps away from Spike. It wasn’t the first time he had been on the receiving end of such homicidal tendencies – although in truth it had always been Angelus that Spike had tried to get rid of. Once beaten, he usually retreated long enough to lick his wounds. He was insane, certainly, but not completely suicidal.

“So, what was that about?” Angel asked, controlling his voice without really understanding why he bothered at all. He had a few reasons to play nice, guilt over William’s turning and education, gratitude for Spike’s help after his return as Angelus; but nothing – nothing at all – made up for the image in his mind of Spike and Buffy together.

*****

“So, what was that about?”

The pain in Spike’s limp arm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to his anger. The Slayer’s words earlier, the humiliation of losing a fight – one more – to Angel even with the gem on his finger, the fact that the damn poof wasn’t even trying to kill him but wanted an explanation…

“What it’s about?” he repeated, incredulous, and exploded. “It’s about your fucking self messing up my life every time a bloody good thing happens to me! I get turned, think I have Dru all to myself; but no, of course not, you’re there fucking everything up! And even when you finally run away, you’re still there like a shadow hovering over us! Dropping by, just to prove her precious daddy is still kicking, and off you disappear into broodiness again. Then you’re back for good, fangs and leather, and I don’t exist anymore, do I? Doesn’t matter that I was there for her all this time; because you’re back and that’s all she sees.”

His fury was blinding him, and Spike had to look away or he was going to throw himself on Angel – dislocated shoulder or not, stake or not. Turning away from Angel, he went to what seemed to be an office door, braced his shoulder against the edge of the wall, and pushed hard, grunting when it resumed its proper place.

“I don’t understand,” Angel said, sounding frustrated. “What in the hell does Drusilla have to do with this?”

Touching his sore shoulder gingerly, Spike turned again to Angel, glaring at him for good measure.

“Who said it was ‘bout Dru, you bloody idiot? It’s about the same story happening all over again! I thought I had the girl all for myself; but it can’t be that easy. Of course not.”

The bitterness was practically dripping from his voice, and he hated himself for it, hated to show any weakness to Angel, of all people. But hadn’t his original weakness been to rush here in the first place?

“So… Let me get this straight,” Angel said blankly. “You’re trying to kill me because of Buffy? What did she do, dump you the morning after?”

Spike felt himself start to shift, and he tried to fight the change, really tried, but he couldn’t help it. It was all he could do not to swing at Angel again.

“Wonder where she learned that one, heh?” he sneered.

Angel shook his head, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“And you think dusting me is going to make things better?”

“It’ll make _me_ feel better,” Spike shot back.

Damn the bloody man. He almost looked amused, now. Almost.

“I doubt that, somehow. Looks to me like you’re always trying to find new ways to hurt yourself. What did you think would happen, going after her? Weeks after I’ve left her? She looks at you, and she sees me, of course. I made you, for fuck’s sake! Forced you to become what you are. And what you are is a killer, no amount of restraining yourself will change that, and she’ll never forget it. Angelus made sure she’ll never make that mistake twice.”

Shaking with barely contained rage, Spike didn’t notice the inconsistencies in Angel’s discourse, claiming ownership of Angelus’ acts with one breath, refusing it in the next. All he heard was confirmation of what he had thought all the way to Los Angeles. It was Angel’s fault if the Slayer had treated him as she had.

“You want to stake me?” Angel continued after an instant, amusement gone and replaced by lassitude. “Go ahead. Do it.”

He threw the stake at Spike, who caught it with a wince as the pain shot through his shoulder.

“Stake me. But next time your heart gets broken, who are you going blame?”

For long, too long seconds, Spike stared at Angel, his fist wrapped so tight around the stake that he cut himself on the raw wood and started bleeding. He had lost count of how many times before he had tried to, wanted to, dreamed of killing Angel. Or Angelus. No difference anymore as far as he was concerned. So many times, and he had never been able to. Never wanted it enough to really accept losing him forever.

And now, now that Angel hinted that he wouldn’t move if he tried… He didn’t want to anymore. This wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was the Slayer. And for Angel to see him win this particular fight.

“She’ll never make that mistake twice, you said,” Spike commented, a forced smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess what. She already did. Now that she has, there’s no way in hell that I’m gonna leave her. Know why?”

He took a few steps, coming within striking distance of Angel.

“’Cause that’s what _you_ do.”

Opening his bloodied hand, he let the stake clatter to the floor between Angel and him. A last glance to make sure he had driven his point home – and oh, yes, he had – and he pivoted on his heels, striding toward the door with a new purpose. The Slayer was his. She didn’t know it yet, but he did, and he’d be dust before he gave up on her. All he had to do – and ironically, it was Angel who had shown him the way – was prove to her that he wasn’t his grandsire. That he wasn’t going to run away when things got tough. That he loved her enough to stick with his choice of being on the white hats’ side even after she had shot him down. And since he could be out and about at any time of the day, let her only try to avoid him.

But before he returned to Sunnydale, he had a hunger to appease, and some anger to dissipate. A bit of fun was what he needed. What better place for that than this huge metropolis and its countless predators waiting to be punished?

*****

_Did I kill that night?_

_Why do you want to know?_

_Would it make a difference if I did?_

_I’m a vampire, ain’t I? Probably killed more people through my years than… than… I don’t know. What killed a big bunch of people?_

_I was made to kill. It’s what demons do. It’s what I do._

_Do I go all indignant on humans because they eat cows?_

_Alright, so do I, what’s your point?_

_My point is, you can’t judge me according to human laws. Know why? Simple._

_Because. I. Am. Not. Human._

_I didn’t make the rules. I didn’t decide that vampires would feed on humans rather than on puppies. I didn’t decide that humans wouldn’t be strong enough to protect themselves. I didn’t decide either that there would be one little girl chosen to hunt my kind like I hunt hers._

_I didn’t decide to fall I love with her._

_What I did decide was to try to get her heart. Try to make her mine. And something was always quite clear to me, even in the midst of my anger and hurt pride. If she ever learned I had killed – and truth spells are too easy to do not to worry about them – I’d never have her back. Or at all. Because I never had her before, right? Not really._

_So, did I kill that night?_

_What do you think? Would you have? Torn between the very core of what you are and what you desire more than life itself? Between the world you belong to and the one your heart is trapped in? Between the darkness that’s yours and the light that’s hers?_

_Do you still need me to answer that bloody stupid question?  
_


	7. Pretty Vampire

“These are the things we want. Simple things. Comfort, sex, shelter, food. We always want them and we want them all the time…”

Buffy repressed a small sigh and allowed her mind to drift. Professor Walsh’s lecture wasn’t exactly groundbreaking so far.

Comfort. Of course, she wanted comfort. That was what her friends and her mom gave her. They made her feel warm and loved. So then, why was her mind flashing back to the embrace a certain vampire had pulled her into on her prom night?

Sex. Was she blushing? She felt like she was blushing; and she was quasi certain that everybody who looked at her could just tell that she had had sex recently. Willow kept throwing her suspicious glances. On the other hand, maybe she was just trying to get her attention back on the lecture. How was Buffy supposed to be able to pay attention when the Professor kept repeating the S word and reminding Buffy of a certain S person who had been so tender and fierce on their first – and last – night together?

Shelter. Shelter for her, for all the ones she loved. Yet, would they ever be safe in Sunnydale? Even when they were tucked in their beds at night, the demons were never very far, only an invite away from being able to tear out their throats. Moreover, there was this one particular demon, now walking around in full daylight, and she wasn’t sure whether to categorize him as fluffy or fangy.

Food. She had been hungry before, but with her thoughts swirling around Spike and what he was having for dinner these days, she wasn’t anymore. She had not seen him since their argument – since he had walked away from her in the sun – three days earlier. No one had seen him. Somehow, it reminded her of that time when he had disappeared the previous year, and later admitted that he had been hunting. Not killing, but hunting. Was it where he was? Or maybe this time it was more than hunting? Part of her couldn’t stop hoping that she wouldn’t have to stake him. She had grown fond of his company on patrols, of his quick wits, of sparring with him. Why had she ruined their growing friendship with that night?

“Buffy? The class is over.”

Blinking, she looked at Willow, gave her an apologetic smile and stood.

“Sorry, I think I zoned out.”

“I noticed. Anything you want to talk about?”

It wasn’t the first time in the past few days that Willow had offered to listen to what was distressing her, and this time Buffy actually hesitated. She still was reluctant to let Willow know about her error of judgment, but she also felt like talking, if only to express these thoughts that were driving her insane.

“Remember that talk we had a few days ago at the Bronze?” she started, and silently begged Willow to remember she had said she would stand by Buffy no matter what.

Immediately, Willow nodded and said one word. “Spike.” Apparently, she had had suspicions, and Buffy wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Yeah, Spike,” Buffy sighed. “I told you guys we had an argument...”

Another nod encouraged Buffy to continue, but she just couldn’t make herself tell everything.

“I… I told him it was going too fast,” she admitted, “and I wanted to slow things down. He was rather mean about it. Acted as if… flirting with me had meant nothing to him, as if it was all just a game. Then he pulled his in the sun trick and I haven’t seen him since.”

They were outside, now, and Buffy blinked a few times in the harsh sun. Only because of the sun, she told herself, nothing more. They directed their steps toward a bench, and Willow did not speak until they had sat down. Even then, her words were soft, careful.

“When you say you were going too fast…”

The unvoiced question received an involuntary answer when Buffy blushed, and Willow’s eyes widened. It was only surprise, thankfully, and nothing resembling disapproval.

“It’s… I mean… I see why you’re so upset.”

A hug followed when Willow couldn’t find anything more to say.

“Hey girls! What’s up?”

They exchanged a glance before turning toward Xander, silently agreeing that he didn’t need to know about any of this.

*****

Four days. Four nights. That was what it had taken Spike to calm down enough to come back to Sunnydale. Had he returned earlier, he probably would have sought the Slayer out, taunted her into a fight or a fuck, and that wouldn’t have helped. He had to be subtler than that. He had to be patient, however hard that might be. Prove to her that the only thing he had in common with Angel was a date of birth well over a century ago. Win her with his presence, constant even when unwanted, show her that he didn’t need a soul to play by her rules, and if she’d only see that…

His thoughts came to a halt when he caught a scent he knew all too well. Cautiously, he followed the trail. In truth, he had not been looking for her. Not really. But if she was around, why resist?

He saw her come out of a pub, caught a few words. Her voice sounded rough, strange, while Xander’s was exasperated. Beer? Would the saintly Slayer be slightly intoxicated? That might be very interesting…

He approached her, smirk teasing his lips, his body already responding to her presence. God, he had missed her.

He had yet to announce his presence when she turned to him, her posture slightly crouched, her eyes burning bright as she gave him an odd smile.

“Catch Buffy, vampire.”

Before he could move, she was running away from him, her laugh echoing after her. He smiled to himself and ran after her. After the way their last talk had gone, he had not expected her to welcome him back like this, with a smile and a game.

It soon became clear that she wasn’t trying to escape, but merely leading him somewhere. He grew curious, but did not slow down; the thrill of the chase was getting to him, more exhilarating than ever, because it was his Slayer in front of him.

Or not in front of him anymore.

Puzzled, he stopped, and took a deep breath, trying to catch her scent in the shifting wind. She had led him to a park, and now that they were amidst the trees, he had lost sight of her. The quiet crackling of a dead leaf behind him was his only warning before he found himself pressed face first to the ground. The feeling was oddly reminiscent from his fight with Angel a few days before, and he struggled to free himself until he felt the tip of what was unmistakably a stake pressing against his back. Even knowing that this could not kill him, not with the ring on his finger, the feeling was far from pleasant.

She didn’t do more than press the piece of wood to his back, however, and then laughed.

“Buffy wins,” she declared gleefully and leaned down to nuzzle his neck.

He froze, then, wondering what in hell was going on with the Slayer. Even if she was intoxicated, her behavior was strange, to say the least.

“Pretty vampire,” she cooed just behind his ear, and began rubbing her body against his back. He groaned at the sensation, which was heightened by the scent coming off her, pure lust, so raw, so primal that he wanted to take her, bury himself in her and never let go.

“Pet, please, let me…”

She must have heard the need in his voice because she knelt, leaving him just enough room to roll under her until he was finally face up. Immediately, she was over him again, rubbing against him, pupils dilated in desire.

“Pretty vampire,” she repeated, very serious. “Vampire smells nice.”

“So do you, kitten. Very, very nice.”

Threading his fingers in her hair, he pulled her face to his, intent on kissing her sillier than she already was. She evaded him, however, and again buried her face in his neck. This time, she bit down, hard enough that Spike howled at the pain/pleasure and rolled them over. He now leaned over her, and her legs hooked behind his own and pulled him down and closer; he complied eagerly, rocking his body against her even as he kissed her. She tasted of beer, but he barely paid it any mind as he plundered her mouth, battling her tongue for dominance as she held him tighter. She groaned and he pulled back, wondering if he was hurting her.

“Pretty vampire bites?” she asked suddenly and bared the side of her neck that wore his marks.

He jerked back at that, unconsciously pressing at the apex of her legs, and she moaned, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him down, toward her throat. Something snapped in him and he scrambled off her.

“What in the fucking hell…”

He stood and took a couple of steps back, eyes wide as he stared at the Slayer now sitting on the ground. She was pouting, and he had the very distinct impression that she was plotting her way into his pants. When he had come back to win her over, he certainly had not imagined that she would immediately try to jump his bones and even offer her throat to him. He observed her, trying to regain control over his own body and to understand what was going on. As much as he wanted it, wanted her, he couldn’t help thinking that this would ruin whatever his chance may be once she sobered or got down from whatever high she had climbed. As for biting her… Hell, she definitely was off her rocker.

So was he for not taking advantage of it.

*****

_To this day, she claims she doesn’t remember any of it. The hunt, the games, coming so close to staking me, to shagging me, to having my fangs in her throat. I’m not sure I believe her. It’s a nice memory, this one. It wasn’t her, not completely, and it didn’t take me long to realize that, but it was nice to pretend._

_I think…_

_I love her; don’t get me wrong. Would give anything I have, anything I am for her. Did, too. But that doesn’t prevent me from wishing, sometimes, that it had been easier. That there hadn’t been so many rocks and pitfalls on our way._

_And I think that if she hadn’t cared so much about what her gang, her Watcher, her mom, and God knows who else would have thought of her, she might have been as direct, as carefree from the start as she was that one night. Admitting that she felt something where I was concerned. Ready to take what she wanted, the consequences be damned._

_Strangely enough, it was me who wasn’t ready then. After telling myself that I’d win her over for good, taking advantage of her drunken state felt like cheating. Yeah, I know, soulless vamp, why did I care about cheating or playing fair? Whatever the reason, I did care, and however hard it was, however much I wanted her, I was a perfect gentleman. Well, for the most part. She was practically rubbing herself on me as I led her away; my hands might have wandered a little. Just a little._

_I managed to bring her to her Watcher’s house – and that it itself was a feat, believe me. I’m not sure if he was more shocked at seeing me there or at Buffy’s behavior. Didn’t invite me in – and I didn’t ask to be invited – but he did thank me and he meant it. Told me he wished to talk with me, some time, if I wanted. I understood, from the flicker of his eyes to my hand, that he meant talk about the ring, and I wasn’t so happy that he knew – they knew – but I just nodded and gave my goodbyes. Buffy would be safe, with him, and for now that was all that mattered._

_I remember going to Revello after that. It was late, but I hadn’t seen Joyce in a while, and I missed her. Missed my Bit, too. Everything was dark, everybody asleep. Habit made me sit down on the back steps, and I lit a fag. And another. And again._

_I was trying to come to grips with what had happened, with what Buffy had said and done, and I can’t say it was easy. Four days before, she had practically spelled that I didn’t mean a thing to her, and now her behavior had at least indicated she wanted me. More than wanted me? That was what I wished I knew. On top of that, her request to be bitten was, to say the least, shattering. It was a jump back to a few months earlier, and the same questions all over again._

_I don’t know how many cigarettes I smoked there, but I know a while had passed when the kitchen’s light was turned on behind me. I looked back and saw Dawn behind the glass, pigtails and PJs, a glass of water in her hand. She looked half asleep, but she still noticed me, and her eyes widened in surprise. I was glad she smiled rather than ran away._

_She opened the back door, wincing when it creaked slightly. She started to come out, but I shook my head at her as I stood._

_“You know better than that, Nibblet, don’t you?”_

_She frowned, but took a step back past the safety of the threshold._

_“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” she pouted, and I held back a grin._

_“Are you so sure of that? I’m the Big Bad vamp.”_

_She rolled her eyes at me, and I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or growl. It wasn’t the first time she had questioned my Big Bad status. I wouldn’t have accepted it from anyone else, but from her, it amused me._

_She wanted to talk, know why I hadn’t come by in a while, but I sent her back to bed, where little girls were supposed to be. All the while wondering why it wasn’t as easy to deal with Buffy as it was to deal with her sister.  
_


	8. Caught

It had been two nights since the beer incident, and Spike still hadn’t approached the Slayer. He had hoped that she would be the one to come to him, to his crypt, maybe, to talk, to thank him for keeping her out of trouble when she had been out of her mind. He had waited in vain. So, he went to her, instead. He was so predictable; it was a bloody nuisance.

Two nights spent thinking over and over of these hot little hands on him, eager and demanding. Of her mouth biting him, then requesting that he bit her. Of what she had offered and he had refused to take. There had been a time, not that long ago, when he wouldn’t have hesitated twice. He would have lived to regret it afterwards, certainly, but would have enjoyed the moment to the fullest. What had happened to change him so? Was it because of the soul? Maybe some residual effects, even though that it had been gone for a few months already. Or maybe it was because he was in love with the girl, and had been trying his damn best for so long to play by her rules that breaking them now felt foreign to him. Whatever the reasons, he had changed; there was no doubt about it. He only wished he wasn’t the only one aware of it.

He had been following her for an hour or so already, shadowing her hunt, listening to her silly puns as she battled and dusted a couple of vamps. He fully intended to come out and go to her, eventually; but so far, he was content with simply watching. She was graceful when she fought, focused on her quarry; somehow, it reminded him of their night together. Sun kissed limbs entangled with his, flawless flesh dancing above him, the arch of her neck…

The memories were delicious but bittersweet. To know her so intimately and then to lose her was worse, much worse than not having ever shared that much with her. At the same time, though, he wouldn’t have given that night and its memory away for anything in the world. Moreover, they gave him something to keep fighting for.

Caught in the images in his mind, he never heard the humans behind him; and when the electricity coursed through his body until he passed out, it was as unexpected as it was painful.

*****

Buffy was sure that it wouldn’t have been so bad if she at least had been able to remember. But no, her memories were inexistent after her third or fourth beer. She remember going to the bar, talking to Xander and the frat boys; but after that everything was a blur until she had awoken on Giles’ couch. Anything could have happened – anything at all – and she wouldn’t have known any better.

Worse. What she did know, from what Giles had said, was somewhat worrying. He had told her how, when Spike had brought her to her Watcher’s apartment, she had been acting very cuddly around the vampire, going as far, according to Giles, as to pet him and call him ‘pretty’. She had been utterly mortified when she had heard that and had tried to make a joke out of it; but she suspected Giles had questions about her and Spike. Still according to him, Spike had seemed anxious to pass her care on to someone else; and there had been no sign that he had taken advantage of her.

After all, Spike had implied that she wasn’t worth a second go, hadn’t he?

And why was that thought upsetting her almost as much as the idea that he could have killed her a dozen times over while she was drunk and back to her cavewoman roots?

He could have, but he hadn’t. And that was exactly why she was now striding through the cemetery – _his_ cemetery – toward his crypt. She was going to talk to him and ask, straight out, where he now stood. With her or against her. Whatever had happened between them shouldn’t be a part of it; it was just too important.

And she needed too much to know that she wouldn’t have to stake him. Even after the crude and wounding words he had said to her, she still had no desire to stake him. She supposed it was because she thought of him as of a friend. She hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her.

As she came in sight of the crypt, her pace slowed ever so slightly. She looked around, allowing herself to be distracted by the sight around her. She came here so little during the day; she had never noticed how quiet – and actually lovely – this part of the graveyard was. The distraction didn’t last long, however, and she soon had to face her goal again. Giles had sent her here, she reminded herself, and she planned to make that clear to Spike as soon as possible, so he wouldn’t get any ideas. Then she’d…

God, could she even do it? Face him? After their argument, after this shameful incident, could she look at him, have a civilized conversation with him? She had to. She had waited long enough, already. She had to know where they stood.

She knocked on the crypt’s door, waited a few seconds, and knocked again. When no answer came, she pushed the heavy door open. It was warm against her palm, heated by the sun. And she realized now, as she cautiously walked around the upper level and called his name without success, that this same sun didn’t trap Spike in his crypt during the day anymore. She had known it, of course, so why had she been so sure that he would be there?

She walked around, looking for signs and cues of what she wasn’t too sure. Her hand was trembling a little when she opened the fridge. If there weren’t any blood in there, she would need to seriously wonder… There was. Bags clearly from the butcher. She sighed, relieved.

She hesitated a little at the entrance of the lower level, and finally stepped down the ladder. Just to check, she told herself. Nothing more. The room was messy, a pair of jeans and t-shirt on the ground, the bed unmade. She closed her eyes briefly and images danced in her mind, sending flashes of want straight to her core.

Lust, she repeated to herself as she fled the room, and the crypt. Nothing more than lust. She needed a boyfriend, very badly, and she didn’t care what that made her. There was that T.A., in her psychology class, who had tried to make conversation with her a couple of times. Maybe she ought to see what he had to say.

As for Spike… Giles would deal with the situation. She was through with it.

*****

Pain shot through his body, and when he tried to move, it took a moment for Spike to realize that he was bound to a table, or whatever flat surface he was lying on. Voices were echoing in his skull, the words mangled beyond recognition; and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was indistinct forms, that he eventually identified as humans. Slowly, oh so slowly, as the pain continued, wave after wave, he regained some control over his senses and could discern words, and eventually sentences.

“…heal…”

“…incredible…”

“…just a vampire…”

“… cuts close immediately after they’re made…”

“Something has to boost his regeneration, and I want to know what!”

“Yes, Professor Walsh.”

Blinking several times, he looked around, the images of his jailors now clearer. One of them had a scalpel, and Spike knew that the blood marring it was his.

He tried to growl, but his voice came out rough, dry, weak. “What the bloody hell are you doing to me?”

Again, he pulled on his restraints and tried to free himself. Strong hands against his shoulders, arms, ankles held him tight.

“He’s awake. Drug him. Now!”

The sharp pain of a needle in his flesh and everything was a blur again.

*****

Hands buried deep in her pockets, Buffy was on her way to Giles. She had just left Willow in their dorm, the redhead having cried herself to sleep. Oz’s betrayal with Veruca, Veruca’s attack and subsequent death, Oz leaving, all of it had taken its toll on her friend, and Buffy wasn’t sure how to help. Somehow, it seemed to mirror what had happened with Angel, and she had a feeling that she should have had the words to comfort Willow, but she simply could not find them. If anything, it proved that she hadn’t healed from that wound as much as she had liked to believe.

How could she help anyone, when she was down there herself? How could she hope to have a relationship, with anyone let alone Spike, if she hadn’t laid her past demons to rest? And how was she supposed to do that exactly? Find a boyfriend? A human one, to whom she wouldn’t be able to confide, who would be in danger simply for being with her, who would never know just how different she was?

Shaking her head at her own thoughts, she knocked on Giles’ door. It was useless to try to untangle all of this now. She couldn’t force love, and she couldn’t force herself to heal. She needed time. Just like Willow.

*****

Giles had never pretended to fully understand Buffy, or any of her friends for that matter. They were adolescents when he had left that part of himself behind him long before. They were American and – thank Lord – he wasn’t. They had grown up on the Hellmouth. They were, there was no other word for it, _different_.

However, not understanding them didn’t mean he was blind. He knew that something had been preoccupying Buffy for a few days; and he had suspicions as to what it was, especially in the light of how upsetting Willow’s heartache seemed to be for her. Suspicions that he wished he knew how to voice without having her lock down at the onslaught.

“We’ll need to investigate these commandos,” he commented thoughtfully as she finished describing her encounter. “I don’t think they mean good news to us.”

She shrugged. Her meaning was clear; she had delivered her message, she was now relying on him to point her metaphorical sword.

“One more thing to worry about,” he sighed, pouring himself a cup of tea. “And there’s still the matter of Spike’s allegiances. Have you seen him recently?”

He was looking for a reaction and he got it. In the last few days, she had taken the habit, undoubtedly unconscious but still obvious, to stiffen and look on edge whenever Spike’s name was uttered.

“No, I haven’t. I went to his crypt like you asked but he wasn’t there.”

Sipping on his tea, he continued to observe her. His suspicions were still there, but he didn’t feel that he had a right to say anything. He wasn’t her father, technically not even her Watcher anymore. He could only hope she considered him as a friend and would seek his help if she needed it.

“I’d better go back to the dorm in case Willow wakes up.”

She stood, took a few steps toward the door. He stopped her with a word.

“Buffy?”

He waited until she had turned back to him, an eyebrow raised questioningly, before he continued.

“I just wanted to say… you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

A bright smile lit her face. Forced, quite evidently. “Of course I know it. Thanks, Giles. And goodnight.”

He sighed as the door closed behind her, now more convinced than ever that something had transpired between her and Spike. If only he could find the damn vampire and question him instead of her.

*****

_The next time I woke up, I was in a blank, sterile looking cell. A cage. High tech with its electric glass wall, but still nothing more than a cage, with guards passing by every so often, drugged bags of blood falling from the ceiling, and my companions of misfortune who informed me that we were no more than lab rats. Hardly my fondest hours._

_There was worse, though, much worse than being caged._

_First, I had been implanted with a chip. I didn’t know it at the time, and I wouldn’t know about it until after I escaped, but the bloody thing was there, in my brain, waiting to fire its nasty electric shocks. And if that hadn’t been bad enough, they had taken my ring. Goodbye invulnerability and walks in the sun. They had taken it, before I could even get used to it. Before I could have a nice walk outside with a certain Slayer._

_Stolen both what made me a vampire and what made me more human like._  
  
 _What was left?_  
  
 _Me.  
_


	9. Freedom (?)

The fresh night air was good to breathe – or it would have been had Spike needed to breathe. But even that, even his retrieved freedom were nothing when compared to the grim reality. He had been held captive by a bunch of humans, been treated as a laboratory animal, cut open and God only knew what else, and robbed of his most precious possession. When he had awoken for the second time, in a cell and not on a surgery table, the ring had been missing. His jailors had apparently figured out why he was healing so fast.

His head ringing from whatever drugs he still had in his system, Spike oriented himself on the campus and quickly walked toward the Slayer’s dorm. He had to tell her about these freaks and their experiments, if only to make sure that she would be cautious and not allow herself to be caught as he had. He was still mad at himself for that; he was a master vampire, and this should never have happened. If there were any justice in the world, it would be a Slayer doing him in when his time came, not a bunch of overgrown kids with expensive toys.

He knew which building she lived in, but not what room; his pacing through the halls earned him a few suspicious looks from the dorm’s residents, but he finally caught two familiar scents and followed them to his goal. Willow’s voice called for him to enter when he knocked, and he stepped in carefully. The girl was sitting on a bed, a blank notebook in front of her.

“Hey Red. Slayer’s around?”

The little witch seemed startled by his entrance. More than that. She was nervous. He frowned, tilted his head slightly, trying to understand why she would be afraid of him.

“She… She’ll be back soon,” she stuttered. “And she’ll be pretty upset to find you here. Enough to dust you, I bet.”

“Good. I’ll wait for her then. You don’t mind, do you?”

Her eyes widened, and Spike hid a small smile as he came to sit on the unoccupied bed. Willow’s nervousness appeared to dissipate as she observed him openly, and when she spoke again, there was reproach in her voice.

“Why do you want to see her? Haven’t you hurt her enough already?”

It was his turn to be startled. He had not expected Buffy to brag about their little escapade – nor had he expected to end up as the bad guy in the story.

“I don’t know what she told you,” he simply stated as he shook his head, “but I’d bet my side of the story would be a bit different.”

Sliding to the edge of the bed so that she was facing him, she crossed her arms, challenging.

“Go ahead, then. Tell me. Convince me.”

For an instant, he considered it. Then, he remembered who this was. The Slayer’s best friend. There was no doubt where she would lay the fault in the end.

“Why don’t you start,” he suggested with a nonchalance he was far from feeling. “Tell me why you were crying, and I might tell you a tale or two.”

She blushed, the red in her cheeks almost enough to shame her hair, and moved back to the center of her bed, returning her attention to the blank notebook.

“I wasn’t crying,” she lied. “Just had something in my eye. And I have homework to do now, so be quiet or go away.”

Shrugging, he leaned back on the bed, and allowed his senses to tell him what he had been refusing to hear so far. This was the Slayer’s room. This was her bed he was lying on. Her scent was all around, but it was more than that, her presence, like a signature left behind her, a signal to those who cared enough to listen. Except… He couldn’t listen and drown himself in her, the memory of her. Not like this, not now, not with Willow a few steps away, not with…

Troubled, he sat up; muffled sounds were coming in from the hall. Sounds he didn’t like one bloody bit.

“Willow,” he said, very quiet, his eyes never leaving the door. “Something’s going on outside, I think you’d…”

He never finished his suggestion. He was interrupted when the door opened abruptly and military commandos rushed in. Acting on instinct, he threw himself at the nearest, and immediately, fireworks erupted in his brain, sending him down before the soldier could even start to defend himself. Orders were shouted as he was lifted off the ground and taken out in the darkened hall, followed by a harsh discussion about whether Willow was to be taken too or not. Despite the lancing throbbing in his skull, Spike took advantage of the soldiers’ hesitation to break free of their grip. He grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall to use as a weapon; but before he could swing it, a soldier had fired a shot through the metal. Noxious gas filled the corridor, making everything opaque; and with a backwards glance into the room and the trapped Willow he reluctantly was abandoning, Spike used the gas’s cover to escape.

*****

Even as she tried to cover her mouth and tearing eyes from the gas that was invading the room, Willow could still hear the voices of the commandos echoing in her head as they had discussed what to do with her. Quarantine? Turned? What had been going on, right there? They had been after Spike, that much was obvious since they had all rushed after him, but they had been ready to take her along and… and what? What would they have done to her, if they had taken her?

She remembered Buffy mentioning she had run into some suspicious military commandos. They were undoubtedly the same guys, but who were they? How had they known to come in here to find Spike? Why had they wanted him?

Finally trusting her legs, she rose from where she had been crouching on the floor and went to open the windows, then sat at the head of her bed to breathe in the fresh air. The gas was dissipating, and the light was back on in the hall. She should close the door, or leave, maybe, go to Giles, or home, or anywhere where the commandos wouldn’t find her. But her heart was beating too fast and her thoughts were still too agitated for her to make a decision.

Arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, she wondered where Spike was and whether he had managed to escape. She hadn’t seen much, but he hadn’t seemed able to fight as well as she remembered. Somehow, even after what Buffy had confided in her, even after their worries that he might not be a white hat anymore, she couldn’t help but worry about him and what would happen if the commandos caught him. And despite the gravity of the situation, she wondered also what he had meant when he said his side of the story would be different from Buffy’s.

She wished Giles wouldn’t be so stubborn and just let her ensoul Spike again. At least, then, they wouldn’t have to worry about whether he was good or bad, and Buffy wouldn’t have to be so conflicted about him. Not that she herself had seemed to worry all that much when he had been there, she realized. His demeanor had been anything but threatening. Still, a little spell, and all would be right again.

Time passed. Willow calmed down. Buffy returned then left again. The commandos never came back for her. What was back, however, now that her adrenaline level had dropped, was the pain of Oz’s departure.

*****

Chastising herself for her jumpiness when the sudden flight of a bird from a tree startled her, Buffy walked a bit faster. With Willow’s rendition of what had happened in the dorm earlier, the strange military commandos she had been crossing paths with were suddenly much more worrisome than before; she almost expected them to come out of nowhere and try to take her. It would only be the cherry on top of the bleak cake for her night.

It had started well enough when she and Willow had gone to a frat party early in the evening. For her friend to get out was exceptionally good, as she was still mourning her lost love. However, the good feeling hadn’t lasted long. Willow had left while Buffy was dancing. The cute T.A. Buffy had intended on meeting, Riley, had been there, and they had talked a little. It could have been nice, except that she had felt no connection whatsoever to him. Even as she listened to the random platitudes he offered, she could only think that he had no clue about what was going on at night in Sunnydale, that he would certainly freak out if he ever knew. As for how he would react if she were to tell him who she really was… she didn’t even want to imagine it.

Thankfully, he had left for some reason or another, and Buffy had taken her cue to leave as well. She had done a half-hearted patrol and tried not to feel lonely after months of patrolling with a partner. She still believed she had made a mistake by giving in to her hormones and jumping into bed with Spike; she wished however that she hadn’t lost his friendship in the aftermath.

At last, she came in sight of his crypt, and she sincerely hoped that he would be there. The alternative would be that the commandos had taken him, and that idea opened frightening doors.

She entered without knocking and immediately called out his name. Nothing but silence answered her. She was tired of their game of cat and mouse, she thought as she walked deeper in the crypt and noticed the leather duster thrown over the back of the armchair. Tired of running after him, of him running from her. He was there, she was sure of it, just hiding from her. Well, let him hide. She didn’t care. She refused to care. She left the crypt, banging the door behind her as loudly as she could.

At least, he was safe.

*****

_They didn’t even hurt me that much. In the confusion of it all, I only received a few blows. They didn’t hurt me, but the chip, that was something else. My brain felt like it was about to melt, and all I had done was try to take a couple of swings at those bloody idiots._

_I returned to my crypt, thinking too much, making too little sense, and laid down. Lying there, eyes open but unseeing, I ran through my mind everything that had happened since the soldiers – the Initiative, I might as well call them by their proper name – had caught me. A bit of cutting open – I would live through that, so to speak. Angelus had inflicted worse on me when I was a mere fledgling. Taking away my ring. Now that was not so easy to forget. My ticket to the sun, lost to a bunch of wankers who had no clue what it was. What were they going to do with it? It wouldn’t do any good to a human. And then… the chip. I didn’t know what it was, of course, at the time. Just knew that my head was ready to split open every time I thought a bit too hard about hurting someone. For all I knew, they could have ‘programmed’ me, Clockwork Orange-style. Maybe it was temporary. Maybe the effects would fade now that I was away from them. Maybe…_

_Maybe it would be better if I kept a low profile for a while. I wasn’t exactly popular with the demons, these days, with my involvement with the Slayer and all, and if they learned that I had a bit of trouble with the violence, it would have meant a quick dusting if I was lucky – or not so quick, if I wasn’t._

_Later, I realized I could hurt demons, of course the chip only protected humans, but somehow it never occurred to me to test the limits of my leash. The headache from my encounter with the damn soldiers was still painful enough that I didn’t want to repeat the experience if I could avoid it._

_I thought about leaving town for a few days, about – might as well admit it – finding shelter in LA. With Angel. Because he knew about being restrained. Because I had helped him and it was more than time for him to pay his debt. Then I remembered our last encounter, the last words and blows we had traded. Maybe going to him wouldn’t be so safe after all. For either of us. The bastard probably wouldn’t let me live down my attraction to the Slayer, and I still held him responsible for my troubles with her._

_Pride, eventually, more than anything else, held me away from anyone, human or vampire, who might have helped me. When the Slayer came to the crypt later that night, I hid in the sewers until she had left._

_Pride only lasted for so long before I became desperate.  
_


	10. Pride and Pity

It felt like years had passed since Angel had left Sunnydale, not merely a few months. The town was the same, undoubtedly, as were its inhabitants, living or not; but he was different. The vampire who had risen up from the sewers to fight along the girl he loved had been replaced by someone who fought because it was the right thing to do. Someone who had a purpose. He couldn’t remember when that had last been true about him, if ever.

He had pondered, on his way to the Hellmouth, whether he would go see Spike or not. His grandchilde wasn’t the reason he was coming back, not at all. He was there for Buffy, who, according to a vision, was in danger. He was going to help her, and she never needed to know he had been around. As for Spike…

Despite his better judgment, Angel went to find him first, telling himself that he needed to make sure Spike wasn’t up to anything bad. Knowing him and his usually catastrophic plans, Angel knew it was always good to be wary of what he might be preparing.

He had not really expected Spike to be in the crypt, not after nightfall. So when he pushed the heavy door it was with some surprise that he discovered his grandchilde sliding into game face as he rose from his armchair. The demon features receded as soon as Spike saw who the intruder was.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

His posture was rigid, as if he were expecting an attack, and it revealed a gauntness that hadn’t been there during his visit to LA a month earlier.

“You look like hell,” Angel stated as he walked deeper into the crypt and looked around. There had been a few changes, since the last time he had been there, but nothing major. Nothing that hinted at any kind of a relationship with a certain Slayer. Her scent was barely perceptible, as if she hadn’t been there in a while.

“You came all the way to Sunnydale to comment on my looks? I’m touched, Peaches, really.”

Touched was the very last thing he sounded. Wary, derisive, defensive, tired, but definitely not touched. Something was wrong with him, but Angel knew that look in the blue eyes that hadn’t left him one second. Whatever was going on, Spike wasn’t going to say a word. He tried for a few more moments to question Spike, but did not get anything more than an increasing hostility, and he finally left before Spike managed to anger him. Maybe Giles would know what was going on.

*****

In the last few weeks since his escape, Spike had tried to live as if nothing had changed.

Except that everything had.

He had gone out three separate times at night, and twice had almost come in close contact with the commandos. The only reason he had escaped was that he had been as much on his guard as he could be. So, no going out after nightfall, not unless he wanted back into a lab. On his last attempt, driven by nothing more than hunger, he had managed to go to the Bronze to try to make a few dollars by playing pool with a coed. The guy had lost, refused to pay, and when Spike had tried to shake the money out of him, he had been sent to the floor by an eruption of violent pain in his brain. The same pain he had felt when the commandos had tried to take him at the dorm. He still couldn’t fight. Just as bad, no money meant no blood. He had tried to return to the crypt where he had found the ring, thinking that he could sell the jewels or at least pawn them – but the treasure had already been cleared, and whoever had done the job had not left a scrap behind.

Not going out at night also meant that he couldn’t visit Joyce, couldn’t patrol with the Slayer as he had meant to do to win her over. He missed both of them terribly, but he wasn’t desperate enough to ask for their help. He didn’t want them to see him weak. He couldn’t allow that. That left only one choice. The Watcher. Giles had seen him at his weakest, when the soul was driving him mad; this was the same.

He took the sewers to get as close to Giles’ flat as he could, then hid under a tattered blanket to rush to his door. However, when it opened on his insistent knocking, the Slayer was standing there and Spike cursed inwardly. Too late to go back now, though.

The surprise, apparently, was shared, because for long, infinite seconds she remained there, mouth open but silent, eyes wide. Imminent combustion forced Spike to speak first.

“How ‘bout you invite me in before I burst into flames?”

The words came from behind her as Giles opened the door more widely. “Come in, Spike.”

The vampire happily obliged, pushing his way past the still frozen Slayer. That finally woke her up.

“What’s up with the flaming act?” she asked, her voice harsh but still laced with the barest touch of worry. “I thought you were sun proof now.”

Spike tried to keep his features impassible but knew his distress must have shown on his face, because her own reflected concern for an instant before turning into a dispassionate mask.

“Misplaced my sun screen lotion,” he replied as he guardedly eyed his audience. He certainly hadn’t expected the whole gang to be there. They didn’t need to know any of it. He was here to request the Watcher’s help, not pity. He’d wait.

“So, what brings you here?” Giles eventually asked when the staring had lasted too long already.

Buffy walked by them and into the kitchenette, giving all appearances of disinterest. But Spike caught her looking back as he started answering. His Slayer was a bad liar; he was a better one.

“Just thought I’d see how Red’s doing after our little encounter with our friends, the soldier boys,” he shrugged, tilting his head toward the witch.

The girl quickly assured him she was fine, and he nodded, trying to find any excuse, anything at all, not to leave quite so soon. Giles helped him, asking what he knew of the commandos. As he was pondering what to reveal or not, Buffy came back in the living room from the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest and looking very somber.

“We can discuss the commandos another time,” she stated blankly. “Right now we have more pressing matters. Which would be dealing with the Chumash tribe before dinner time.”

Sitting down in an armchair as if he had been invited earned him blank looks, but Spike ignored them. He listened to their planning and plotting, tried to understand what was going on, offered his unasked-for opinion. He noticed Angel’s scent, lingering around, but opted not to mention it. He’d discuss it with the Watcher later, when the kiddies had left. Discuss that, along with the rest.

*****

Thanksgiving had come and gone, bringing a number of surprises that hadn’t been particularly pleasant for Buffy. The Chumash tribe’s angry ghosts, Angel’s stalking act, Spike’s intrusion into her dinner plans…

She had hinted, more than once, that it would be better if he returned to his crypt and left the gang to their celebration, but he had refused to hear her. Giles had suggested, out of Spike’s earshot, that the vampire had to be there for a reason, and that maybe he would tell them once there were less people in attendance. She had stopped the hints, but still couldn’t feel very comfortable knowing that Spike was right there. It was the first time they had been in each other’s presence since their tumultuous discussion, and he had no right to look unconcerned as he idly paged through one of Giles’ books.

The Scoobies left, and Buffy stayed under the pretext of helping Giles clean up. She was putting away the clean dishes in the kitchen when she heard Giles finally approach his guest.

“Was there anything you wanted to talk about?”

A short silence followed, and when Buffy looked toward them, she could see Spike staring in her direction. Their gazes met and broke apart instantly. “It can wait,” he answered at last. “‘Wouldn’t want to interrupt your cleaning up act.”

In other words, he wouldn’t say a word while Buffy was still around. Well, tough luck. She wasn’t going anywhere and leaving him alone and free to snack on Giles. Or to tell him things that were none of his business. She walked back into the living room, crossing her arms and looking as determined as she possibly could.

“If you’re waiting for me to leave, think again,” she declared. “I’m not leaving until you’re out and Giles redoes the disinvite spell.”

He looked from her to Giles, then back. His eyes closed, his lips were no more than a thin line, and he was gripping the armrests of his seat so hard that Buffy thought they might break. It only lasted a second, but she had the distinct impression that a whole battle was taking place in his mind, and she was very curious as to what he was thinking. When he opened his eyes again, the fight seemed to have gone out of him; she didn’t like the look on him at all, it was completely unnatural.

“These commandos,” he said slowly, his gaze set straight ahead of him, between Giles and her, “they took me. Few weeks ago. They did something to me, drugged me, changed me, and I…”

Again, his eyes closed. Whatever point he was trying to make, it was obviously painful.

“I can’t fight anymore. Can’t even bump into someone or step on their little toe without that unbearable pain exploding in my head…”

He touched his temple with the tip of a finger as if demonstrating.

“I need help,” he mumbled at last, and it was clear that the admission was costing him.

Buffy, however, failed to see why he was telling them all that. “You can’t hurt anyone, that’s pretty good as far as I’m concerned. One less vamp I’ll have to stake.”

She regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips when she took in the surprise – no, the incredulity – on his face.

“Stake me? Why in the hell would you…”

He cut himself short and his eyes darkened. “‘F course. I should have known you wouldn’t give a fucking damn.”

He stood and walked between Giles and her, heading for the door.

“You asked for help, we’ll give you help,” Giles stated calmly, and Spike froze, his hand on the door’s handle. “But we’ll need your help in return about understanding who these commandos are and what they do.”

Buffy could see the tension in Spike’s back as he hesitated, and somehow she felt like telling him everything would be OK. She kept quiet however. Eventually, his hand dropped, and he turned back to them with a tired sigh.

“I’ll tell you what I know.”

*****

_What happened after Thanksgiving… it’s a funny story, really. I wasn’t there for the show, but I’ve heard about it, from both of them, enough to get a pretty clear picture of what went on in LA._

_So. During their dinner, Harris had let the vampire out of the bag, so to speak, and Buffy knew her ex had been around. She brooded about it for a day and then went after him, huffing and puffing the whole way, ready to stake him if he didn’t agree to stay out of her business. Out of her life. Have to say I understand her on that point. He was the one who had broken it off; he should have had the decency of playing by his own rules. But anyway._

_They had a round of shouting, my name became involved and it got even worse. Stalking her, as she saw it, was one thing. Keeping tabs on what she did with her nights, that was something else. It might have ended with a pile of dust if a demon hadn’t intruded on their little discussion._

_And here comes my favorite part of the tale. A bit of not so common demon blood, and Angel becomes human again. With Buffy around. Now, if you had asked me, I would have said that was bad news. Very, very bad news. At least for me. But nope. On the contrary, it seems to have helped. She saw him human, what had stood between them completely gone, and it didn’t change anything. He was still her ex, and she didn’t want him back, not after he had presumed to play with her life and feelings. She left him there with good wishes for a long and happy life, and came back to Sunnydale._

_Is that a happy ending or what?_

_Angel? Oh, yeah, he made a deal, cancelled the whole thing, returned to being a souled vamp again. His usual self-flagellation trip, although in this case I get it. Wouldn’t want to be anything but a vamp either. That’s what I am, who I am, and there’s no denying it._

_And in the meantime in good old Sunnydale…_

_The Watcher grudgingly took me in, even bought me blood, with the clear demand that I’d repay him someday. They made me tell all that I remembered several times, had me draw maps of the inside, of where I had been taken, where I had come out of that hell. Despite my request, he did tell the gang what had happened to me, and that I couldn’t hurt anyone. There was a mix of relief and pity in their eyes after that whenever they looked at me. It was as bad as when I had been souled. I was even treated to a truth spell so that they would know I really couldn’t hurt them. The only notable difference was that this time I was offered the couch rather than chained to the bathtub._

_Gloomy days. Even more somber nights. Not being able to go out and relieve a bit of tension with a spot of violence. The Slayer dropping by, every now and then, to discuss something with her Watcher and ignore me the best she could. And then…_

_Then the Witch played with us.  
_


	11. Something Old

Night was finally falling, Buffy noted gratefully as she glanced toward the window, still nodding at what Willow was saying. She adored her friend, she really did, but at that moment, she truly couldn’t wait for patrol time to come so that she could escape their room. Oz had sent for whatever belongings he hadn’t taken with him, and this cruel hint that he wouldn’t be coming back had increased Willow’s depression tenfold. Buffy herself knew quite well what it felt like – she had been in Willow’s shoes not that long ago – but she also knew that nothing she could say would help her friend. Time was all that mattered now.

“I’ve got to go and patrol,” she announced as kindly as she could at the first opening in the discussion, only to witness Willow’s face fall. “Duty and all that,” she added apologetically.

“Can’t you skip just this once? I figured since I'm kinda grievey, we could... you know, have a girls’ night. We could eat sundaes and watch Steel Magnolias and you can tell me how, at least I don't have diabetes.”

The hint of hope in her wavering smile was so frail that Buffy felt guilty to crush it. Before she could cave to Willow’s request, the phone rang and she answered it, giving herself some time. The person on the other end was the last one she had expected to hear.

“Slayer, you’ve got to come.”

Startled to hear Spike’s voice, it took her long seconds to react, she was annoyed by his demand as much, if not more, as by the coldness of his tone.

“And why would I want to do that?” she snapped.

An irritated sigh sounded in her ear. She could have bet he was rolling his eyes.

“’Told you she wouldn’t want to listen to me,” he said, away from the phone but distinct enough. “Why don’t you talk to her instead?”

Fumbling on the other end of the line, and at last it was Giles talking to her; he sounded quite upset, enough so that she didn’t let him finish.

“Buffy? I have need of your assistance here, if you…”

“I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up the phone, she faced her forlorn friend.

“Giles needs me,” she explained as she picked up her jacket. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can; then we can have that ice cream orgy, OK?”

Neither the promise nor a hug appeared to soothe Willow, but Buffy had to go nonetheless, guilt trip or not. She rushed to Giles’ apartment, forgetting for the first time in days about being wary of military commandos that may have lurked in the darkness. When she arrived there, a vampire greeted her.

“Your Watcher’s blind,” he announced abruptly, waving her in toward Giles in the living room. Giles had a full glass of scotch in one hand, his glasses in the other, and stared straight ahead unblinkingly.

“Giles?” she asked cautiously. “Are you alright?”

*****

With some difficulty, Xander repressed the sigh that was threatening to erupt. Willow was the next best thing to a sister to him, but her brooding was becoming just a little tiring.

“Will, come on, you know that’s not true. Of course, Buffy would prefer to be with you rather than run errands for Giles.”

Willow shrugged dejectedly.

“That’s what you think, but I know better. She’s been at Giles’ an awful lot lately, haven’t you noticed? Wait until Spike gets his soul back. They’ll be all over each other and getting married faster than… than you can attract a new demon with your demon-magnet abilities!”

*****

The Slayer had thrown more than a few suspicious glances and comments in Spike’s direction after she had arrived, but now she was practically ignoring him as she searched for a cure to Giles’ problem. The Watcher had assured her that whatever had happened to him was not related to Spike as it had begun when Giles was out; so, she had returned to her weeklong habit of paying no attention to him. His plans of seducing her had come to a grinding halt with his admission of weakness and request for help. If he had only known…

Closing the thick volume with irritation, he shut down that train of thought. If he had known how Buffy would react to his presence, he would still have come to the Watcher for help. It wasn’t as if he had had any other option.

“Did you find anything?” she asked in clipped tones, eyeing the closed volume in his hands.

“Nothing,” he replied just as short. “I need a smoke.”

Without waiting for her to voice her disapproval or Giles’ reminder not to smoke inside, he put the book down and went for the door. The Watcher had refused to buy him cigarettes for three days before caving to his badgering, but Giles hadn’t complained since. Of course, that might have been because Spike was now trying to control his temper. Annoy the Watcher too much and he might end up thrown out…

Still a foot short from the door, Spike gasped as pain suffused him and sent him to his knees. Head bowed, one hand clawing at the door in front of him, he heard himself murmuring words, but he was barely conscious of them.

“Not again please not again…”

The pain receded slowly, and, as he expected it, no dreaded it, the voices were back. Screaming as loudly as they had, all those months ago. Pointing out his shortcomings as clearly. He had his soul again.

However this time, he did not let the voices take over. This time he knew what to do. To each accusation, he answered with the simple truth, mumbling out loud even though the voices were only his to hear.

“Haven’t killed in months. Helped her. No killing. Not anyone…”

A fluttering hand on his back, hesitant, at first, then soothing, comforting, called for his attention to return to the outside world rather than his internal focus.

“Spike?” a quiet but strong voice murmured. “Calm down. You’re okay. I’m here.”

The same gentle hand pulled him, tugged him, until he was standing and with his face instinctively buried in Buffy’s neck, his arms tentatively encircling her. She continued to rub small circles on his back.

“I’m a bad man,” he whispered against her skin. “Not even that. Bad yes, but no…”

“Shhh… That’s not true. You know it’s not.”

He shook his head, as much as the position allowed, and she pulled back a little, forcing him to look at her.

“Do you think I would love you if you were a bad man?”

He blinked a few times, chasing away the excessive wetness from his eyes, searching her face for any trace of deception. All he could find was shy truth.

“You… you love me?” he repeated, dumbstruck; she only nodded.

The voices fell into silence at that. The Slayer loved him. The champion of good loved him. He couldn’t be so bad, if she did.

Buffy loved him.

Praying to deities he had long before forsaken that this was not a dream, he leaned to press a kiss to her petal soft lips.

“Love you too,” he murmured. “So bloody much that it hurts when we’re not together.”

It was her turn to seek his mouth, and the kiss this time was stronger, tongues teasing each other and promising much more.

“We’re together now,” she beamed when she broke the kiss. “Now and always.”

“’S that a promise, luv?”

The glint in her eyes was answer enough; and with a soft growl, Spike recaptured her mouth, only to be interrupted by a pointed cough from the Watcher sitting only a few steps away.

“Buffy? Spike? What exactly is going on here?”

*****

For a second, Buffy was ashamed. Not because she had been kissing Spike, admitting her love to him at last, no, nothing like that, she was past that, ready to accept who and what he was. She was ashamed she had forgotten her Watcher and his predicament, if only for a second. Then, Spike answered Giles, and everything else disappeared again.

“What’s going on is that I’m about to ask my love to be my intended,” he stated calmly, and Buffy’s eyes widened as he slid down to one knee in front of her. He took her hand in his as he looked up at her.

“Buffy, luv, you know how I feel. I cannot remember a time when you weren’t in my heart. Everything before you pales, and I don’t ever want to be without you again. I want to be with you every night, every day, and make you the happiest woman. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes filled up with happy tears, and Buffy realized she did know how he felt. She had always known. She had been too stubborn, too blind to admit it, but she had known. Still, she had never imagined he would want to go as far as marrying her.

“It’s just so sudden,” she mumbled, choking on the words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say yes and make me the happiest man on earth.”

She could hear it in his voice, read it in his gaze, that he meant it quite literally, and she felt ready to burst from her love for him.

“Oh, Spike, of course it’s yes!”

She felt a ring slide on her finger, but she barely paid attention to it, reveling in the feel of Spike’s body pressed against her, in the joy shining in his eyes, in the passion of their kissing. It wasn’t as hot as it had been a few weeks before when they had flirted each night just a little more. It was ten times better. It was a thousand suns on each point of contact, their lips, tongues, bodies, his hands at her waist, on her back, hers at the nape of his neck, cupping his face.

A loud noise startled both of them, and they turned as one to where Giles was stumbling toward the kitchen, muttering something about scotch under his breath.

“Giles, are you okay?” she called out, worried, as she lightly swatted at the vampire nuzzling her throat.

Indistinct mutterings answered her, and she was about to suggest to her fiancé – God, she loved that word – to start searching again for a way to help Giles when Xander and Anya rushed into the room, closing the door behind them. They looked distraught, and even more so when they saw her and Spike holding hands.

Of course, she had known it wouldn’t be easy, so it didn’t surprise her when they questioned her relationship with Spike. They made ridiculous conjectures that it was all the result of a spell, that she didn’t really love him. She came close to telling them that it had started long before that night, instead she let herself be distracted by a soft kiss that clearly sought reassurance. She gave it freely. She had hurt Spike in the past, she knew that, and he had hurt her too; but they were past that, now, and on their way to happiness, as she tried to demonstrate to him and herself at every occasion she had.

*****

__  
Willow’s little wishing spree gave me some of the loveliest hours of my existence. To have Buffy in my arms, willing to give all that she was to me, willing to let me give her all that I was… Heavenly, there is no other word. Even today, I only remember those hours fondly. Even knowing how it finished. Even knowing it was because of my soul that she could be with me. The soul that wasn’t so terrible to endure when I had this certitude that she’d always be by my side.

_I couldn’t have told when the spell ended. We were kissing – a hot, passionate kiss that felt like a prelude to much, much more – and I could hear Willow, could hear her words, even if their meaning was the last thing I could have cared about. The kiss didn’t stop, or slow down, or anything. It was just Buffy, and me, and the rest of the world could go to hell for all I cared. For all we cared. Then more words, just as insignificant as Willow’s to me. But apparently, they struck something inside Buffy, because she pulled away from me, shocked and shamed. A simple look at her and my pleading words died in my throat._

_I stood, avoided looking at any of them, and dusted myself as if I didn’t have a care in the world, as if my heart hadn’t been trampled on and cut to pieces; then as calmly as I could, I walked out of the mausoleum we had been hiding in. Strode back to Giles’ without waiting for any of them, although I’m pretty sure she followed, if only to make sure I was going back to Giles’ flat. In truth, there’s a reason why I went back rather than anywhere else. I intended to empty out his liquor cabinet._

_However, as soon as I had taken two steps inside, he presented me with a tumbler full of amber liquid. He had a matching one in his other hand, although less full. I emptied it in one long gulp, and didn’t have to ask for a refill. I cannot say how grateful I was that he didn’t say a word that night. I couldn’t have stood it._

_To my surprise, Buffy did me the same courtesy. When the gang came by the next day to enjoy Willow’s guilt cookies, she never said anything about our little engagement adventure; and I noticed the chastising look she threw Xander when he started saying something about wishing he had been blind too._

_It didn’t matter. Talking about it or not, I knew what I had had again for a brief time, what I had lost again, and more than ever I thought about leaving. Thought about it only. Never could actually do it._

_Good thing I didn’t, too._


	12. Silent Night

_“Buffy Summers, come down to the front of the class.”_

_Without questioning Professor Walsh, Buffy rose from her seat and went to her. Riley was a few steps away, and he smiled encouragingly at her; she tried to reply in kind, but somehow couldn’t make herself. Just opposite from him, she noticed with some surprise, was Spike. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes following all her movements as she laid on the desk as Professor Walsh requested. When he pushed himself away from the wall and approached her, she could feel her heart beating a little faster with each of his steps. Silent, he held her lightly as he leaned toward her lips, and she let herself melt in the touch of his lips and hands. When her eyes fluttered open again, they were in the mausoleum they had hidden in a few days before when Willow had wished them engaged and in love. Even as she realized that, he smiled sadly at her._

_“Did she say love?”_

_She was about to ask him what he was talking about when she noticed a little girl standing nearby and chanting what sounded like a nursery rhyme. She tried to talk to her, but soon the child had left, leaving only the memory of her words._

_She woke up in a shock when Spike’s features morphed into a horrific mask._

__

*****

It wasn’t that the class was boring, Buffy repeated to herself as Willow teased her about her little class time nap. It was just that she had a lot in her mind. She couldn’t be expected to pay attention all the time, not when so much was happening at once.

First, there was this dream. The chanting little girl, the box, the demon… it had to mean something. She would need to tell Giles about it. She wouldn’t mention the Spike part, though.

Then, there were the commandos, which she had noticed twice since Spike had told the gang everything he knew. Her prey was the same as theirs, demons, but she had felt more than a bit queasy upon hearing Spike’s detailed account; she was almost certain he had edited his tale. What was she supposed to think – or do – about them?

Also, there was Angel. Or rather, there wasn’t Angel anymore. Her trip to Los Angeles had made that clear. They had thrown accusations at each other, she had been shocked to hear that Spike had come all the way to LA to blame Angel about their failed-before-it-started relationship, he had seemed genuinely hurt, but in the end she had come back to Sunnydale with one certitude where before she had been so conflicted. Angel was her past, and despite her previous hesitations, she was ready to move on.

Then, of course, there was Spike. Spike who had claimed he felt nothing for her but had still needed to blame someone for the wrongness of the day after. Spike who lived with Giles, who would barely ever meet her gaze, who avoided talking to her as much as he could. Spike to whom she had been engaged to for a few hours and whose stupid, ugly skull ring she still hadn’t returned. Spike who, despite what he clearly wanted them to believe, had seemed more than touched by the experience – but whether it was the soul or the engagement that had affected him most, she wasn’t sure. 

The same Spike who would be accompanying her to Revello as soon as night fell.

She still wasn’t sure what to think about the situation. Giles and her mother had conspired behind her back, and she wasn’t so happy about it. She would have liked them to ask her opinion before deciding that Spike would live with her mother for a couple of days while Giles had a guest. She scrunched up her nose at that idea. Thinking about Giles having an intimate friend was just as bad as if it had been her mother. At least it wasn’t the two of them together, that one time had been disturbing enough.

Willow had her Wicca group to attend, and promising herself to study later Buffy decided to go to Giles. She had to tell him about her dream; it might have meant something. Or at least, the chanting little girl might have; the part about Spike kissing her… just a dream. It meant nothing.

Didn’t it?

Lost in her thoughts and memories, she bumped into a wall – or as close to a wall as humanly possible. Riley helped her pick up the notebooks and book she had dropped, his smile oddly reminiscent of her dream.

“I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz.”

His smile brightened a little at her words as he returned her last notebook.

“Nah, you were just daydreaming. At least you weren’t sleeping this time.”

Mortified, she realized he had noticed her little nap during class and desperately searched for an excuse. She could hardly tell him that she had patrolled late, could she? She was grateful when he changed the subject.

“Interesting drawing. I’d never would have thought you were into goth stuff.”

Confused, she wasn’t sure what he was talking about until he pointed to the cover of her notebook. Spike’s skull ring, badly drawn but recognizable, taunted her and she quickly turned the notebook upside down. Doodling certainly wasn’t any better for her sanity than dreaming was.

“I had…” she started, then hesitated. An encouraging smile pushed her to continue. “I had a question about that lecture on dreams the professor gave. Could you maybe…”

“Sure. We’ll have to make it short, but I have a few minutes.”

Wondering if she was making a mistake, she followed him to sit at a table in the foyer. All she needed to hear was that her dreams of kissing a certain vampire meant nothing, but she tried her best to keep her question general and reveal nothing personal. Startlingly enough, Riley seemed to think she was hinting that she had dreamed about him. Even more troubling than that, he assured her that dreams of that intensity certainly showed she had feelings for the other person.

*****

Glowering, Spike crossed the room to the coat rack by the door and grabbed his duster.

“If you haven’t noticed, the sun is still up,” Giles pointed out with impatience.

“And when did that ever stop me?” Spike snapped back. “I don’t need anyone coddling me, not you, not Joyce, and I bloody well don’t need a babysitter.”

The watcher looked up to the ceiling as he took his glasses off. “Who said anything about babysitting? You asked for a safe place to stay; we’re giving you that. It just happens that this weekend it will be with Joyce rather than me.”

Spike snorted and slipped his coat on. “In other words, I’m inconvenient and you found me a babysitter. Exactly what I was saying. Didn’t even ask my opinion. Well, fuck that.”

Just as he reached for the knob, the door swung open. Startled by the too close sunlight, Spike stepped back, making room for the Slayer to enter.

“Ready to go?” she asked, one questioning eyebrow raised. “You realize the sun’s not down yet, right?”

His anger renewed, Spike turned his glare back to Giles.

“So, not only did you arrange for a babysitter and didn’t tell me anything about it, but you also have a chaperone to get me there? What’s next, a leash?”

“They didn’t ask my opinion either,” the Slayer said coolly, just as Giles exclaimed, “That’s enough!”

Startled, both Spike and Buffy looked at Giles, who seemed a second away from losing his temper completely as he pointed an accusing finger at each of them in turn.

“Spike, you asked for our help, and we’re giving it to you. If you have a problem with being given a roof, blood, cigarettes and protection, please, by all means, leave. But don’t expect anything from us after that. Buffy, your mother certainly does not need your permission to have a guest, and the pouting act is getting old. Now both of you take a seat and wait for that bloody sun to get down.”

Pretending not to sulk, Buffy sat down on the sofa and after a few seconds, started telling her Watcher about a dream she had had. Spike hesitated, still annoyed by the way Giles had arranged things behind his back, and even more so by the cold words the other man had given him. What was certainly even more irritating was that Giles was right. After their initial reserve, they had offered him everything he could have hoped for when he had come begging for help.

And that was where things began to grate, he had to admit to himself. He had not expected so much. He had not been ready to accept so much. It was one thing to ask for help, quite another to realize just how much he needed. Now the idea that the woman he loved would accompany him like some sort of invalid so that someone else could see him at his weakest… the last shreds of his dignity were crumbling to dust. All he had left to save was appearances, and they definitely would be crushed if he ran away like a brooding child. Pointedly refusing to look at either of them, he sat down in an armchair across from Buffy and Giles and distractedly listened to them.

Half an hour later, the sun had finally set and his ‘bodyguard’ led him to Revello Drive. He tried to pretend, just to himself, that he wasn’t as defenseless as a kitten next to her; but he was all too aware of the grim reality, so he kept quiet. Hard to seduce a woman when all she saw in you was someone who needed to be protected.

“Spike… I have a request.”

The words surprised him as much as their quiet tone. She hadn’t talked to him like that since before their short-lived affair, with the notable exception of their engagement. And no, he wouldn’t think about that, not now, not ever. What could she want from him?

“My mom doesn’t know about us,” she continued after a second, still looking straight ahead. “I would rather like it to stay that way.”

The blow wasn’t unexpected, and he managed not to show any emotion.

“It’s not like it was anything to brag about,” he commented offhandedly, observing from the corner of his eye to see how she would react. Nothing that he could see and her voice was ice as she replied.

“Which is certainly why you went all the way to LA to tell Angel to his face, huh?”

He missed a step at that, and looked at her sharply. She knew he had told her ex and he wasn’t dust yet?

“Apparently, he was under the impression that you were blaming him for what had happened. I really don’t get that, seeing how you claimed not to give a damn. Care to enlighten me?”

For an instant – a very short, very insane instant – Spike considered admitting everything. The lie that he didn’t care about her. The truth of his feelings. Then the meaning of their walk was flung back in his face as her mother’s house appeared in the distance. They weren’t patrolling as they had done so often in the past, two fighters, two equals. They were anything but equals.

Instead, he changed the subject. “I’m surprised you agreed to me staying with your mom.”

And surprised, he added silently, that Joyce had agreed to host him.

She gave him a long look, and he thought that she was going to repeat her question. Instead, she accepted the shift of topic.

“She was rather adamant about having you over,” she shrugged. “Kinda didn’t ask me what I thought of it.”

A pause, oh so short but still meaningful, and then she murmured: “Not that I have any real reasons to worry, do I?”

He looked at her, unsure of what to do with the comment; her face revealed nothing. They had arrived, and she pushed the door open.

“Come in, Spike. And don’t make me regret this.”

*****

_Be careful._

_I will._

_Are you sure_

_I’ll be fine, Mother._

__Joyce looked up from the notepad, eyes twinkling as she gave Spike a mock-stern look. He replied with his most shameless smirk, and she rolled her eyes at him. Pushing himself away from the kitchen island he had been leaning on, he retrieved his duster in the hall and slipped it on, ready to go out; instead of going right away he changed his mind and came back to her.

_Lock the door behind me,_ he wrote. _And don’t open it for anyone._

She nodded, and he pocketed the notepad and pen, surprised when she reached for his hand and squeezed it. Again, she mouthed for him to be careful, and this time his smile was softer.

As he stepped outside and took his first few steps, he became intensely aware of what a bad idea it probably was, but he didn’t slow down. He was going to find the Slayer and offer whatever help he could – even if it was only a supportive presence.

The previous night, he had itched to go, for his own reassurance, and for Joyce’s. She had been asking him questions all day, wondering if the loss of their voices was caused by something demonic and whether Buffy would be hunting down whatever it was. It still seemed ridiculous to him how little she knew of her daughter’s activities, and he might have said – _written_ – a bit too much. What was he supposed to do, lie to her when she had been so nice with him since his arrival?

At no time during the past two days had she referred to his problem, instead acting as if he were family visiting from out of town rather than an infirm given to her care. She had asked his preference for accommodations, guestroom or the safer basement, offered him hot cocoa, chatted about the gallery like they hadn’t done for what felt like an eternity. His fear that he would see nothing but pity from her had been quelled, his fondness for the lady increasing tenfold.

Awakening to perfect silence had been strange, but he had lived through stranger things in his time. That was when her worrying had started, and it hadn’t stopped until an hour before when he had announced he would go out and make sure her daughter was safe. She hadn’t commented on the obvious and asked how he planned to do that when he couldn’t fight, but she had been grateful, and for that alone it was worth it to be out and risk bad encounters.

Finding the Slayer wasn’t any more difficult than it usually was. Convincing her to let him tag along was on the other hand surprisingly easy after a brief written exchange.

_What are you doing here?_

_Your mum was worried. Told her I’d watch your back._

_Fine. Since you’re here, you might as well stay._  
  
He hadn’t expected her to accept so easily whatever help he could give, but he wasn’t about to complain. They started their hunt and he focused his senses, trying to detect anything unusual around them. It was good to patrol again with his Slayer, even if his role was nothing more than being there. From the quick glances she kept throwing at him, she enjoyed the company too.

*****

It was nice, Buffy reflected as she kept looking for the Gentlemen, to have Spike by her side; it reminded her of the last summer. Nice not to have to talk and fumble for words. Nice to know he cared enough to have come out to help her despite his inability to defend himself. Her suspicions that he saw her as more than a ‘shag’ were growing even more.

A hand on her arm, a pointed finger, and she nodded. There was their prey. Time for her to fight, and for him to hopefully stay out of harm’s reach.

*****

_It was hard to watch her fight and not be able to do a thing to help. No, not hard. It was hell. But I wouldn’t have given my spot away for anything in the world. Would have been nice to know already that I could fight demons and do my part, especially when the wanker showed up. But at least, I was with her._

_Yeah, pathetic, I know. What can I say, there must be a bit of the bloody poet left in me, even after all these years, and I blame it all on him._

_Full of revelations, that quiet night was. The one where she could actually be decent to me, all we needed was silence. The one where she worried about my safety, which became clear once the fight in the tower started. The one where the Initiative was closer to her than anyone had thought._

_Can’t say I was too pleased when I saw the soldier boy fighting alongside her. First, that was my spot; second, I recognized him all too well. One of the commandos I had seen during my captivity. Not one of my tormentors, but it didn’t make much of a difference to me. He was the enemy, whether or not he was currently fighting on the same side as me._

_I kept out of his sight. The last thing I wanted was to be taken again before I could warn the Slayer of who exactly was helping her. At some point, I noticed a box amidst the assortment of jars and remembered the dream I had heard the Slayer telling Giles about. I caught her eyes in the middle of her fight, showed her the box, and her reaction was clear enough not to leave a doubt. I crushed the box to splinters. She screamed. The fight was over._

_I remained out of sight until she had exchanged a few words with the soldier and he had left. When I came out, she spoke faster than I could._

_“Is he one of the commandos who caught you?”_

_There were so many words she could have used. Captured. Imprisoned. Caged. Neutered. Defanged. Tortured. Caught was one of the most innocuous ones. I told her that he was, and for a second, her gaze seemed to turn murderous; but I quickly convinced myself I had been wrong._

_“How about we get back to Revello?” she suggested. “I could use a warm drink, and mom and Dawn will be glad to see we’re fine.”_

_I was thankful that she didn’t spell out that I needed someone to watch over me and make sure I returned there safely, but surprised at the attention. I really had no clue what was going on in her head. Much later, she admitted that since our short-lived engagement she had been thinking a lot about me, her feelings, us. But at the time, I couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so nice. The only reason I could think of was that she was expressing her pity for what had happened to me. It didn’t help as far as my ego was concerned, and it didn’t make for easy nights._


	13. Know When To Fight

Realizing that stomping her foot wasn’t going to give her any advantage in the discussion, Buffy tried to calm down. Why were men so stubborn? And why did they have to side together against her? Wasn’t there a rule in that unread Slayer handbook that said Watchers had to side with their Slayer rather than a vampire, even a good one?

“It would be a great opportunity to infiltrate their organization,” she pointed out, not for the first time. “We’ll have insider information about what their plans are.”

“And if their plans are to open you up to see how a Slayer works, what will you do?”

She winced at Spike’s words; why couldn’t they keep getting along as they had not an hour earlier when they were both voiceless? She should have escorted him back to her mother’s house, as she had first suggested, rather than take him to Giles. Why had she even mentioned to him that she was off to see her Watcher? Silence was indeed golden.

“Circumspection seems to be needed, Buffy,” Giles admonished. “Wait to see if the commandos approach you, if they know who you are, and how much they are ready to tell you.”

She threw her arms up in apparent surrender and shook her head.

“You two have to be the most stubborn people on this planet. Fine. I’ll keep a low profile.”

What she didn’t add was that, if Riley came to find her instead of her going to him as she had suggested, all bets were off. Sunnydale was her town, and she was going to know what the deal was with these commandos, she promised herself that much.

A discreet cough drifted down from the loft, and Buffy was suddenly very much aware of Giles’ state of dress – or, as it may be, undress. She refused to even wonder what he wore beneath his robe.

“We’d better be going,” she said, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s _already_ late,” she thought she heard him murmur, and walked a little faster to the door, knowing without needing to check that Spike was following.

“One thing, though,” Giles stopped them. “If they are wary of you, they might keep an eye on the places you visit. It might be good if Spike remained with Joyce a few more days, so that they don’t pick up on his presence here.”

She looked at Spike, curious as to how he would react to that seeing as how he had all but thrown a tantrum when they had decided for him before. He seemed calm – unusually so.

“What do you think, Spike?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Here, there, it‘s the same to me. At least your mum will have some company.”

The hint of reproach was there, and she felt guilty when she heard it. Her mother must have said something for Spike to point out in this not so indirect manner that she didn’t stop there as often as she should.

“We’ll ask her, but I’m sure she won’t mind. I’ll let you know, Giles.”

The first minutes of the walk home were quiet, comfortably so, and Buffy wouldn’t have minded if it had lasted until they arrived. Of course, it took demons and a town-wide spell to keep the vampire silent more than a few instants.

“Still planning to come out to that soldier boy wanker, aren’t you?”

Surprised, she turned to him and missed a step. “How do you…”

Too late, she realized that she had all but admitted it. He shook his head and lit a cigarette. A memory surfaced as she watched his long fingers play on the white stick; during their engagement, she had asked him to stop. “Anything for my love,” he had replied, and she had believed him so much that even now she wanted to remind him of the promise. She knew better though and didn’t say a word.

“I _know_ you,” he said at last, starting so quietly she barely heard his first words. “I’ve been around you long enough to see past your words, sometimes. Rupert knows too, though he’ll pretend he doesn’t. He’ll let you satisfy your curiosity, and his, and keep his good conscience about…”

“Curiosity?” she couldn’t help but interrupt. “Is that why you think I want to know about the commandos?”

“Why else?” he shot back.

Annoyed that he couldn’t see her reason only seconds after claiming he knew her, she replied before realizing that she was talking too much.

“Once I know what they do and how they do it, maybe I’ll have a clearer idea of what they did to you. Maybe I’ll even know how to reverse it.”

Wincing at her admission, she kept her eyes straight ahead. Long seconds passed before Spike asked, his puzzlement clearly conveyed by his tone, as well as a touch of bitterness:

“Why would you want to reverse it? ‘Thought you liked me defanged?”

A dozen answers presented themselves to Buffy. She couldn’t remember seeing him smile – really smile – since he had come to them for help. He constantly seemed depressed. It wasn’t right that someone as strong as him, both inside and out, couldn’t protect himself. It wasn’t right that he had been experimented on like an animal. She missed his company on patrol. She missed sparring with him.

In the end, she chose the one truth that would certainly mean the most to him – the one, also, that felt the most innocuous.

“It’s not like I had any reason to distrust you with your fangs before, did I?”

He stopped walking, and she took a couple more steps before realizing that he was no longer next to her. Blue smoke seemed to surround him when she turned to face him. Head tilted to one side, he was observing her, his eyes unreadable.

“’S that right, now? From what I gathered, you warned your gang that I was stakable and dangerous again, didn’t you?”

She crossed her arms and refused to back down on that. “That’s the impression you gave me, and since you went away it’s not like I could check to see if we were still fighting on the same side.”

An almost indiscernible smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’ll admit I’ve had my doubts too. Did think a bit about playing Big Bad again.”

She tensed at his words. Unconsciously she reached for the stake tucked into her pants’ waistband, but stilled her hand before grabbing it. She wasn’t going to stake him now for thinking about something. But why was he confessing such a thing just as she had declared trusting him?

“Then…” he continued, his eyes remaining on her face save for a brief flicker to her empty hand, “… I realized if I did that I’d only prove you right.”

“Prove me right?” she repeated, unsure of what he meant.

“I don’t know who you went to bed with that night, luv. But I’m pretty sure you woke up next to Angelus’ memory. Couldn’t go ahead and play the same tricks he played on you, could I?”

Her eyes widened and she stared at him as he walked by. She might have dreamed of the fingertips that brushed her cheek when he passed by her. Silent, she followed, her eyes glued to his form a few steps ahead of her, suddenly realizing how right he had been when claiming to know her.

*****

There had been many times, in his hundred plus years as a vampire, when Spike had wished for a reflection. The invention of polaroids had been a blessing, and soon a necessity for he wasn’t above a bit of vanity. Right now however, he was quite glad he didn’t have any way to look at himself, as he was quite sure he looked like an idiot.

Out of the blue, Joyce had decided that he had needed new clothes, and she had come back from work with pants, shirts, t-shirts and boxers, all miraculously his size, all, also, in colors he hadn’t worn in more decades than he could remember. Trying to convince her that he appreciated her thoughtfulness but liked his usual garb just fine yielded the same kind of results as trying to stop the sun from rising, which was how he ended up wearing brown slack pants – sienna, she insisted they were – and a barely darker short sleeved shirt.

“I knew you’d look fine in these!” she exclaimed when he grudgingly came out of the basement and offered himself up for her inspection. “The color does wonders for your complexion. Now if you’d only…”

She gestured toward his hair and he stepped out of her reach, already shaking his head.

“No way. Don’t even think about it.”

“But…”

“Joyce, you’ve been really nice and all, but there’s a limit to what I’ll endure.”

A fleeting look crossed her features, and Spike knew exactly where Buffy had gotten her sulking from.

“Even with the hair, you’re quite dashing,” she smiled, and Spike was suddenly grateful he couldn’t blush. When she aimed that maternal streak of hers in his direction, he was always at a loss as to what to do or say, and ended up acting like a right git. Thankfully for his sanity, it rarely lasted long; this time, she gave him a way out by asking:

“Have you thought about getting back on the dating scene? It has been a while since Drusilla and I’m certain you could find a nice vampiress to…”

“To do what?” he interrupted her, the good son act forgotten as he looked at her grimly. “Kill for me so that we’d feed from the same corpses? Or you expect me to go and preach that animal blood is the new delicacy?”

She swallowed heavily; sometimes, it seemed that she forgot too easily what he was. Too bad she couldn’t forget it when it came to the subject of her daughter.

“Well, if you live on animal blood,” she insisted, “there’s no reason for other vampires not to do the same; then you’d have company.”

“I have all the company I want,” he said flatly. His gaze was daring her to even bring the topic of the Slayer to the table. He had noticed the worried look on her face when Buffy was around, and he didn’t like it. She didn’t take the bait however, and instead changed the subject abruptly.

“Talking about blood, you’re almost out of it. Let’s go to the butcher.”

He refrained from rolling his eyes. “I don’t want…”

“You need to get out of this house. It’s just not healthy for you to stay in all the time.”

He didn’t try to point out to her that he had been out only the night before when they had all lost their voices. Didn’t try to remind her either that ‘healthy’ wasn’t something that mattered much to a vampire. Didn’t even argue that there was a reason why he was still living with her instead of having returned to live with Giles, and that was to hide and keep a low profile. He just sighed and let her have her way. Sometimes, it simply wasn’t worth to fight.

As it turned out, he did fight that night and with more than his words.

*****

_I loved Joyce. A lovely lady, she was. I never entirely shook that feeling that she was a bit like my mum, however different they were. Might be because, more often than not, she treated me like her son, and it was all too easy to reply as such. I don’t know why she did, when for so long it was clear she didn’t want me involved with Buffy in anything more than a friendly way. I just know it meant a lot to me – hell, I even lost my soul at least in part because of it, didn’t I?_

_So. Makeover and fresh blood, that was her plan for that night. It was more than strange modeling what she had bought in front of her and the Bit, and oddly reminiscent of long gone times when I had done the same for Dru’s inspection. Don’t know what it is with women and trying to change my clothes. The Slayer still tries it, every now and then._

_On our way to the butcher – and with Dawn’s awed and grossed out questions as to where the blood was from and whether the butcher would bleed a pig in front of us – I spotted the Slayer in the street, with Red and Harris tagging along. Stopped the car, little chat, and amused comments, mostly from Harris, about my new attire. I announced I’d go with them – if an apocalypse was on the way, I wanted a front row seat – and the Slayer argued for a minute before deciding that she really didn’t have time. She demanded that her mum and sister return home, and let me go with her._

_Best bloody idea I’d had in months._  
  
 _Three demons trying to open the hellmouth, sacrifice, talisman, blah blah, who cares? Isn’t it always the same story? The one part of the show I enjoyed is that somehow, I became involved in the fight, and it became a choice between major headache and major hit. I tried my luck with the first, and discovered I could fight demons. The first swing I took at that damn bugger… I don’t think I could explain how much it meant to me. After starting to fear, I’d be incapable to fight for the rest of my unlife, being given that much was as sweet as a first mouthful of blood after days of fasting. It wasn’t just about getting off on a bit of violence – hey, don’t turn your nose up at me, I’m a demon, what did you expect? Fighting is fun. It’s what vamps do. Fists and fangs, blood and power, I don’t know anything better save for a good fuck. Choosing to be a white hat never changed that simple fact – I need the fight about as much as I need blood._

_What was I saying?_

_Oh, right. So, it wasn’t just about the pleasure of the fight in itself, even if that alone was worth so bloody much. It was about not being useless anymore. About being able to do something to help them, help her, rather than the help coming my way only without giving anything in return. It was about her seeing more in me than someone who needed to be protected. About restoring the balance, somehow, and making her think of me more as an equal._

_So damn happy about it, I could have spent my night out and fought ‘til morning. Except I couldn’t, could I? I could fight demons, but I was still defenseless against humans – against the Initiative – and wasn’t it my luck, one of them showed up for the show. The same one as before. Riley fucking Finn. He didn’t recognize me – although for a minute I thought he would – and I think I can credit the poofy clothes for that. We sent him off with a pack of pretty lies, and then it was time for a little talk. Buffy argued with me until I agreed I wouldn’t tempt fate by going out to hunt by myself. In exchange, she promised we’d patrol together, like we used to. And that’s what we did that same night after Red and Harris went home. A good old-fashioned trip through Sunnydale’s graveyards, with a dozen kills between the two of us. She was tired though, that much was clear, and an hour or two past midnight she begged off. I didn’t protest then, thinking that we would have many more nights – many more kills – to share, and already exhilarated by the prospect._

_Of course, it didn’t work that way, did it? She worked her way into the Initiative, and after that we couldn’t patrol together; it was just too dangerous. Instead, she was with the wanker and his friends. Can’t say I was happy about that, but it’s not like I had a say in it.  
_


	14. A New Demon

Spike knew before he even entered his crypt that someone was in there; he could hear the telly. Finding that all of his stuff was still there had been a pleasant surprise when he had moved out of Joyce’s basement and back into his bachelor’s suite. He didn’t particularly enjoy living alone – as a matter of fact, he hated it – but he had to prove to himself that he could do it. He had requested help from the humans because he though he couldn’t defend himself against anyone, but now that his odds were slightly better and he could fight demons, it felt logical to return to his independence. He still had to be wary of the commandos, but he was sure he could do it. He had to do it, for himself, for his own sense of worth.

Carefully, he opened the door, cursing the faint creaking that he had meant to fix for months, but relaxed immediately when the scent of his visitor hit him. A pleasant surprise, that was. He hadn’t expected the Slayer to come back here anytime soon, considering that the last time she had been in his crypt they had ended up in bed. Moreover, that was probably the worst thing to be thinking of when walking in toward her.

She turned to him and rose from her seat when he entered, smiling hesitantly.

“Hey. I hope you don’t mind me waiting, I wasn’t sure where else to look for you.”

He shrugged. If that was her way to ask where he had been, she would have to do better. Not that he had anything to hide, he had only been scouting a couple of bars frequented by demons to see if he could get a bit of cash and a spot of fighting there. It was a surprise, however, that she had waited for him until now; it had to be past three or four in the morning already.

“No problem. Anything you wanted?”

She pointed out to a box left on the sarcophagus.

“I brought you cake.”

“Cake?” he repeated, incredulous, his eyes going from her to the box and back again.

“Crypt warming gift?” she offered as an explanation. “There was a lot of birthday cake left, so I thought maybe you’d want some.”

His smile wavered. He knew he had forgotten something. Not that he would have been able to buy her anything, but he could have nicked flowers or something for her if only he had remembered. Too late now.

He nodded his thanks and refrained from commenting about her birthday.

“And talking about your crypt…”

He could feel her eyes following him as he went to the sarcophagus and its plastic box. Nice cake, with a bit of a flower on top of the icing.

“… do you think it’s a good idea for you to live here? The Initiative is still a danger for you.”

That got his attention back, and he turned to face her again, frowning slightly.

“‘S that their name, now? The Initiative?”

She nodded and took a few steps toward him, gesturing excitedly as she explained the latest developments.

“I managed to get Riley talking a bit more, and tomorrow I’ll meet Professor Walsh and…”

Spike’s mind blanked out at her last words; and he shut his eyes, squeezing his fists tight until they hurt. Bits and pieces of his stay with the commandos – with the Initiative – were coming back to him, and one voice in particularly was clear in his mind as it ordered him cut open, the voice of a woman that others had called Professor Walsh.

A light touch on his shoulder startled him and he jerked back, inadvertently hitting Buffy’s arm with the back of his hand. Punishment was immediate and in no way proportionate to the offense as pain exploded in his head. Pressing his hands to his temples, he muttered a string of curses as he waited for the agony to recede. There he was, trying to show Buffy that he wasn’t completely defenseless and pathetic, and at the first occasion, he ruined it all.

“Spike… are you sure… I mean, mom said she wouldn’t have minded you staying there a bit longer.”

He sighed and dropped his arms, gripping the edge of the sarcophagus behind him.

“ _I_ would have minded,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze and trying to keep calm despite his growing irritation. “I’m a master vampire. Don’t need anyone to coddle me.”

Light fingers pressing against his jaw guided his face until he was looking at her.

“No one would think any less of you,” she stated, her voice too carefully blank for him not to wonder what she really thought.

Her hand left him abruptly and she moved back; he suppressed a sigh at the loss of contact.

“As I was saying, I’m meeting Walsh tomorrow. I’m hoping to know more soon. But I don’t think I’ll be around much, I don’t want to lead them to you. Just so you know.”

Why was she telling him all this? Why did she care about what he thought? What exactly was going on here?

“Slayer? What…”

“I’ve got to go. Getting really late, Willow will be worried. Be careful, Spike.”

Just like that, she was gone, leaving Spike baffled and confused. If he hadn’t known any better… Shaking his wishful thinking off, he closed the cake’s box again and stuffed it in his fridge before climbing down the ladder to the lower level of the crypt. Time to get a bit of sleep – and, maybe, dream of his Slayer.

*****

Walking through the sleeping town back to the campus, Buffy still couldn’t believe that she had remained out for so long. That she had waited for Spike for so long. She should have left the cake, written a note, maybe, and been on her way. Why had she even wanted to bring him cake to begin with, he was a vampire, he didn’t care about cake unless it was flavored with hemoglobin.

It was hard to even admit to herself, but the truth was that she was worried about him. The more tidbits she gathered from Riley about the Initiative, the more she realized that, compared to the military operation, what she did had all the appearances of amateurism. Not as far as numbers were concerned, perhaps, but their organization seemed to be on a completely different scale from what she did with the help of a couple of friends and a retired librarian.

Riley was a nice guy, a bit stuck on procedures and sometimes it was clear that he wondered how a girl like her could be a fighter. But it was hard to keep smiling and acting like nothing was wrong when she knew that he had been responsible for Spike’s ordeal, indirectly or not. And judging by Spike’s reaction when she had mentioned her name, Professor Walsh had been too.

She wondered if it would have mattered so much to her what the Initiative did if it hadn’t been for Spike. Probably not. It was clear that his experience was affecting her way of seeing things. She was fighting the same fight as the Initiative, but somehow she felt that she was playing fair and they weren’t.

She hoped Spike would be OK, alone in his crypt. She understood, she believed, why exactly he wanted to be independent again, and so she hadn’t dared protest too much. But if she was right and he wanted to prove her he still had a place in her fight, then the question was why it mattered so much to him what she thought, and that was one more tentative checkmark in the ‘Spike loves Buffy’ column.

*****

“Explain to me again how you let yourself be transformed into a Fyarl demon?”

Glaring at Spike, Giles was of half a mind to test that mucous thing the vampire had mentioned before. Then again, it might not be the best thing to do seeing how he needed his help. He had admittedly been a little surprise by Spike’s eagerness at helping him; he had not expected Spike to refuse, but he would have thought some bargaining might have been involved. Instead, Spike had muttered something about repaying debts and that had been it.

“How is not the question,” Giles growled. “How to reverse it is more important. Now drive. And shift gears before you destroy my car, would you?”

Spike chuckled as he wrestled with the shift stick.

“Yeah, we definitely need to get you back to normal. Who knows who else you might be trying to scare to death?”

Despite himself, Giles smiled. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for frightening Professor Walsh; he attributed the feeling to being a demon, and tried not to think too much about the deep satisfaction he had felt when the bloody woman had run away screaming like a banshee.

“I still think telling the Slayer…”

“No. I don’t want her involved. All we need to do is to find Ethan.”

Spike gave him a piercing look, long enough that Giles was about to remind him to watch the road.

“Don’t want her to see you as a demon, is that it?”

“Something like that,” Giles muttered – or rather, tried to mutter, but his demon voice still filled the small car.

In truth, he wasn’t so proud of what had happened. He had felt completely out of place at Buffy’s birthday party two nights before, and learning by accident that Spike could fight demons and was moving out of Joyce’s house had only reinforced his feeling of uselessness. Buffy was an adult, she didn’t need him as much as she used to – or maybe not at all anymore – and the pill was hard to swallow to say the least. Add to that the infuriating conversation he had had with Walsh, and he had fallen head first into Ethan’s trap. It hadn’t helped that Ethan had voiced exactly what Giles had started thinking, which was that the Initiative might be more dangerous than what Buffy had uncovered so far. Suddenly remembering something Ethan had said, Giles asked:

“When you were in the Initiative… did you hear anything about something called 314? It seems…”

“No. Didn’t. Is that the bar?”

Giles didn’t insist, having noticed more than once before that Spike was always reluctant to talk about what had happened with the commandos. It didn’t seem to affect him for long however, as he turned on the charm and managed to get the information they needed from the waitress. That brought a different kind of questions to Giles’ mind, about Buffy and what exactly was going on between her and Spike.

The hostility that Buffy’s voice had held only a few weeks back when she talked about Spike had faded, replaced by something that Giles wasn’t sure what to name. Tolerance? Fondness? Friendship? As for Spike, the tension in his voice and body when he talked of her had all but disappeared. Like for spike’s newfound fighting abilities, Giles had the feeling that he was not being told everything. Except he wasn’t too sure that he wanted to know.

*****

_It felt good to help the Watcher, even if all I did was drive him around and wreck his car. I’ve never been one to care much about paying for what I owed, but for some reason it was important to give back in this case. It also was my first opportunity to show them I wasn’t completely useless, and that was even better. Would have been better still if the Slayer had been around, but I guess a fellow can’t have everything. At least, the Watcher told her I had been of assistance, and she mentioned it the next time I saw her, so that was nice._

_What was less nice, of course, was that she enlisted Finn’s help that night while she was chasing Giles. Can’t say I was happy to hear about that, even if she always claimed all she wanted was a foot inside the Initiative to discover what they had done to me. She took too many risks; nothing will change my mind about that._

_Talking about risks… Living by myself again turned out to be rather easy in the end, and it almost made me regret having gone to the Watcher. Almost. On one hand, that had shown me in a not so nice light to all of them; on the other, it had allowed the Slayer and I to start mending what we had broken._

_Got money for my blood playing for cash or tabbies in a couple of demon bars, and it gave me the opportunity also to hear about this 314 Giles had mentioned. It was never much, but enough pieces to the puzzle so that when Adam…_

_What? Going to fast again?_

_Alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist. Just get on with the show then; I’ll be quiet._

_For now._


	15. Lies

The night was dark and moonless, and clad as he was in his usual black garb Spike was no more than a shadow – except for his too white hair that was as good as a beacon. He knew he was taking a risk, following the Slayer and her new play friends from afar; but he didn’t care. He had to see her, see them, and see how the little demonstration ended.

He had found them completely by accident. He had been on his way to a poker table that would possibly feed him for the next couple of weeks when he had caught a fresh scent that bore her signature. Without even pausing to think about it, he had changed course to go after her and had almost run straight into the Initiative. He had managed to avoid being noticed and suspected that if they hadn’t been so focused on Buffy they might have given chase. For a while, he had wondered what was going on, and whether the soldier-boys were seriously tracking her, but after catching a few words from the soldiers and a glimpse of her smile, he had realized that it was all a game. Or training. Nothing serious and he doubted the Slayer was even playing to the maximum of her abilities. The others still seemed to have trouble catching up with her, and Spike couldn’t help being proud of her.

When the game finally ended and she had neutralized all of her adversaries without much trouble, Spike didn’t linger. There was a world of difference between taking a calculated risk and being stupid, especially when he noticed the Slayer looking in his direction and lightly shaking her head. But damn it, he would have wanted to keep an eye a little longer on that soldier who was standing a bit too close to Buffy.

*****

The few times Riley had told Buffy about the Initiative, he had never hinted that it would be that big. Of course, more often than not her questions were met with a ‘classified information’ and an apologetic smile.

They had been hanging out together a lot during the last few days, and she suspected that for Riley this was the beginning of a relationship not entirely focused on the common goal of their work. She felt a little guilty for not putting a definitive stop to his hopes, but she wasn’t encouraging him either; it wasn’t as though she were leading him on. As long as he had an interest in her, she could keep asking questions; even if most of them weren’t answered, it was better than nothing. And right now, Buffy had a hunch that a lot of her questions were about to find an answer.

Still amazed at the size of the complex and the number of people working there, Buffy listened attentively to what Professor Walsh was explaining; more attentively, maybe, than she had ever listened in class. But for each new piece of information, her mind supplied additional images.

“Much of our hands-on research with the HSTs is performed here. We call this 'The Pit.'”

Two demons were in the recessed area, apparently unconscious as they lay on operating tables. In their place, for a brief instant, Buffy saw a bleached blonde vampire, and she had to blink to get rid of the disturbing vision. Spike had never been very explicit in telling what had happened to him, but she could imagine.

“Doctor Angleman!”

A man in a white coat looked up and nodded toward Professor Walsh before returning his attention to what was happening on the operating table.

“He’s the head of our science team,” Professor Walsh explained. “He's a leader in the field of xenomorphic behavior modification.”

“Behavior modification?” Buffy repeated, although she already knew what that meant.

Another blink and Spike was back on the operating table, men in white coats surrounding him.

“We've made significant advances in reconditioning the sub-terrestrials,” Professor Walsh lectured. “Bringing them to a point where they no longer pose a threat.”

Maybe this was the opportunity Buffy had been waiting for. If she knew what had been done to Spike exactly, she could… she could what? Fix him? Did she really want him to be able to hurt humans again? Shaking off that thought – she would have time to think later once she had all the data in front of her – she tried not to sound too eager when she asked:

“How does that reconditioning work exactly?”

Professor Walsh gave her a long, questioning look, and Riley frowned ever so slightly.

“That is classified information,” Walsh said at last, her voice cold despite a small smile. “But we are experimenting with different techniques. That’s really all you need to know.”

The visit continued with more information that never went into details and more questions that remained unanswered. Buffy couldn’t help being surprised and awed at how large the Initiative was, larger than she would have thought a secret operation like this could be. But beyond these feelings, her unease was growing. Professor Walsh had claimed to not know what Buffy was talking about when she had mentioned hearing about a ‘314’ project, but the brief widening of Walsh’s pupils and her abruptness told another story. As for why exactly the Initiative wanted to ‘reprogram’ demons instead of simply killing them, Buffy had a strong suspicion that she wouldn’t like the answer to that – if she ever received one.

She played the part, accepted the pager that made her part of the team, shook hands and smiled, but deep down she knew already that the Initiative wasn’t as perfect as they wanted her to believe.

*****

It wasn’t the most pleasant thing to be back to asking for the gang’s help merely days after reclaiming his independence, but Spike didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. He had had a run in with the Initiative the previous night, and they had been on his tail ever since. He hadn’t stopped moving for hours but they had always seemed nearly to catch up with him. He hadn’t been too glad to risk leading them to the Watcher, but he couldn’t see another option. Of course, now they knew how the soldiers had been able to trail him all this time, seeing as how he had had a beacon embedded in his shoulder.

Giles had just finished suturing him, and already the effects of the alcohol Spike had used as anesthetic were fading. The hangover didn’t look like it would be too bad, so that at least was a good point. Careful not to pull too hard on his injured shoulder, Spike slipped his t-shirt back on, all too conscious of the four humans observing him. He had said his thanks already, what did they expect? And what were these foul smelling bars Xander, his girl and Willow were munching on anyway?

“It will be dark soon,” Giles pointed out unnecessarily as he removed his latex gloves. “I think it will be wise for you to leave Sunnydale.”

Spike raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction and wondered if he had talked to Buffy. Weird coincidence if he had not.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he replied flatly.

“As long as the Initiative is in operation,” Giles insisted, “it's not safe for you here.”

“No.”

Like the others, Spike turned to Buffy who had just entered, her voice as grim as she looked.

“It's not safe for any of us,” she continued, and proceeded to explain how Walsh had tried to have her killed. Spike wanted to growl at that, but twinges of pain threatened to turn into something even less pleasant if he didn’t stop planning bodily harm on the bloody woman.

It didn’t get any better when Riley Finn came by and gave him a more immediate focus to his anger.

*****

_OK, I understand that you’re telling the story as you see fit and skipping past the parts that you think aren’t too important – and let me tell you, I’ve wondered more than once about how you decide that, because it sure looks random to me – but I can’t let you get away with this. You forgot about that talk the Slayer and I had before I got beaconed by the wankers. Can’t just ignore that; if you do, the rest doesn’t make much sense._

_What do you mean, you know?_

_Well, you could at least have warned me you were going to leave that part to me instead of letting me ramble on. Now you’ve screwed up your timeline, you realize that, right?_

_You do?_

_You don’t care?_

_Fine. Whatever. Why I even bother with this, frankly, I don’t even…_

_Oh, calm down, I’m getting to it, give me a minute._

_Right. So. Backing up a bit to the night after the Slayer officially became part of the Initiative. Not that she remained with them long, but hey, that’s my girl. She went on her first mission with the boy scouts, caught some kind of demon or another, and then after she ditched the wankers I had the pleasure of her company. She came to my crypt, but it wasn’t a courtesy visit, not by a long shot._

_I remember I had been watching something on the telly when she entered, and she sat down beside me on the sofa and watched for a bit while I explained to her what was going on. It was… different. Almost domestic. Not what my dreams were filled of, but nice just the same. And then, out of the blue, she turned to me and said:_

_“I think you should leave town.”_

_I doubt I was very eloquent when I answered, but I must have gotten my incomprehension across because she soon explained herself._

_“I’ve had a proper look at what the Initiative is like. I can’t believe you’re still around when you know what they’re doing. It’s too dangerous, Spike. You need to go somewhere safe.”_

_Didn’t reply anything right then, mostly because I was torn between being happy at the concern she was showing me and annoyed that she wanted me to go away._

_“Maybe you could go to LA,” she continued when I still didn’t say anything. “I know you and Angel don’t get along too well, but maybe he…”_

_That did it. That she was suggesting I could find refuge with Angel was too hilarious for me not to say anything. Of course, it was far less hilarious later on when the bastard heard about my chip problem and offered to take me in._

_“’M not going anywhere near Angel, pet. Not going away at all.”_

_What I wanted to say – what I couldn’t let myself say – was that I wasn’t going anywhere away from her, not for all the blood in the world. She found her way to get to that truth, though._

_She stood, and she seemed annoyed now as she glared down at me. “They could track you down and God knows what they’d do to you. They are dangerous.”_

_I nodded at her. “That they are, pet. And that’s exactly why I’m not going anywhere.”_

_“Why not? Feel like blowing in the wind? Because if that’s it, I…”_

_She couldn’t even say it, and I wanted to smile at that. That’s probably why I talked too much._

_“They’re dangerous to you too, luv. ‘M not leaving you here to deal with them alone.”_

_I consciously omitted, and she was kind enough not to point it out, that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help her against them. She knew it, I have no doubt about it, but her face still softened with a small smile, as if whatever I had said had touched her. Dangerous grounds, I was treading on, and I should have known better than that. Call me a fool, that’s clearly what I am as I apparently can’t keep my mouth shut._

_“I won’t let them hurt you,” I added, realizing too late what my words and tone sounded like. She’s not stupid; she heard it too. I wanted to backtrack, but it was too late, I could see that plain and loud on her face. Couldn’t keep looking at her so I distracted myself with lighting a cigarette. Last of the pack, I noticed. I’d need to go buy more._

_She was quiet for long seconds, and I could feel her eyes on me. I could feel the rejection coming, too, the ‘let’s just keep being friends or whatever we are’. Which was why I was more than baffled when she said, her voice quiet but strong:_

_“You lied to me.”_

_I finally looked up at her, unsure what she meant, trying for all I was worth to remember when I might have lied to her. Is it sad to say I couldn’t even remember an instance?_

_“You said you didn’t feel anything for me, that it was just… just a fuck, nothing more. You lied.”_

_Voice and eyes, she all but dared me to say otherwise._

_I tried._

_I couldn’t._

_When I didn’t reply, she nodded to herself, looked around the crypt, anywhere but at me. Again, I waited for the rejection. Again, she surprised me._

_“I don’t want anything happening to you either. Which is why I still think you should go out of town. At least for a while. Think about it, Spike.”_

_She left then, abandoning me to questions and burgeoning hopes that were nowhere near finding an answer. After a while of pacing through the crypt, I was getting as loony as Dru, talking to myself and to the Slayer as if she had still been there. So I went out, thinking I’d go buy some blood and fags._

_That’s when I had my run in with the Initiative and their beacon.  
_


	16. Hostilities

After their little talk in his crypt when he had admitted, if only by his silence, that he had lied to her about what their night together had meant to him, Buffy thought she knew what Spike’s feelings for her were. If she had any doubts left, the look of blind anger on his face when Riley entered the apartment would have been enough to dissipate them. Anger, she was sure, caused by the revelation that the Initiative had tried to get her killed.

She raised a hand toward Spike, fingers spread in a ‘don’t do anything stupid’ gesture, and only after catching his gaze did she finally turn back to Riley. A few questions later, she was certain that he hadn’t known about Walsh’s plan to get rid of her. His distress seemed genuine enough; but he still insisted it had to be a misunderstanding.

Then he saw Spike.

“That’s Hostile 17,” he said, the surprise widening his eyes comically.

Spike stared back, not even bothering to pretend Riley was mistaken.

“His _name_ is Spike,” Buffy replied flatly, and placed herself right between the two men. “And there’s nothing ‘hostile’ about him.”

“We've been looking all over the place for him,” Riley shot back irritably, “but you've known where he was all along.”

“Damn right she knew,” Spike smirked. “I’ve been around far longer than…”

Turning to him, Buffy glared long enough to make him fall quiet before glaring in turn at Riley.

“He’s a good guy,” Willow piped in. “He’s been helping us.”

“But he’s still a demon,” Anya felt necessary to add, earning Xander’s elbow in her ribs.

Riley blinked bewilderedly several times as he looked in turn at the members of the gang. “A good demon? You think I’m going to believe…”

Walking closer to him, Buffy cut him off as gently as she could. Yelling at him would do no good. “Believe what you want about Spike, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s part of the gang. And why would it be so incredible that a demon can be good, when a human had no problem ordering me killed?”

The soldier’s eyes and attention refocused, away from Spike, back on Buffy and her near brush with death.

“This isn't like Professor Walsh to do something like this,” he protested. “There must be something making her act this way. Something… I don't know, controlling her.”

Giles stepped closer to stand by Buffy’s side, glasses in his hand, slight frown on his brow.

“We think Buffy may have been becoming too inquisitive,” he said softly. “That she was getting close to something that Professor Walsh was trying to hide. Do you have any idea what that might be?”

Riley simply shook his head.

“What about 314?” Buffy pressed. “Maybe that's it.”

“Maybe she was trying to test you,” he countered. “What if it was only a drill?’

“Then why did she tell you I was dead? Riley, it wasn't a test.”

If she had had any doubt that Riley might be dangerous to her or her friends – save Spike, of course, she realized that it’d take more than a few words for the soldier to see past the ‘hostile’ heading – Buffy wouldn’t have insisted so much. But the time she had spent with him had taught her at least one thing, and that was that he believed in what he did, in saving human lives. She was sure he’d never condone any harm done to her. Especially since he seemed to have a crush on her.

Again, Giles came to her help, pushing at Riley’s defenses with quiet words that had to be shattering for him.

“See, I've heard rumors that the Initiative isn't all that we've been told. That, hem… secretly they're working toward some darker purpose, something that might harm us all.”

The soldier took a step back, as if by putting distance between himself and them he might be better able to refute their words.

“No! That's… that's not what happens there.”

His gaze erred around the room before finally returning to Buffy and, past her, to Spike.

“I can't be here. I need to sort it out.”

She let him go without trying to convince him any further. It was already a good thing that he was thinking about it all; he would need to take the next steps by himself. As soon as he had closed the door behind him though, she turned to the rest of the gang.

“We need to get out of here. Fast.”

There were murmurs of complaints, mostly from Giles and Anya who, for different reasons, didn’t enjoy the prospect of Xander’s basement being their hideout for however long would be needed. Spike, also, categorically refused to come along, claiming he’d be fine in his crypt. Unwilling to make a scene in front of the others, Buffy let him go, but not without promising herself to check on him at the first occasion.

*****

It had been hard for Spike to sit through that conversation, listening to the wanker challenge the Slayer’s words, and not tell him exactly what he thought of tin soldiers playing not only with his fangs but with the life of the woman he loved. But this very same woman had asked for his silence, with nothing more than a look and a small gesture, and to his own surprise Spike had found himself obeying her request.

It had been even harder to leave her with her friends after that, when he feared she wasn’t totally safe. But hiding with them in an overcrowded basement wouldn’t have made her any safer, and it might have caused some uncomfortable questions from the others instead. At least, if he was out, he could keep searching for information about that ‘314’, whatever it was. That was what he had done the night before, after leaving the Slayer and her gang, and what he would do that night again as soon as the sun set.

His day had been a little too eventful, however. In the afternoon, he had been watching the telly when noises outside had prompted him to hide. A couple of Initiative wankers, one of them the idiot from the day before, had searched his crypt and destroyed his television before moving on. That had been too close for comfort.

When night finally came, he practically jumped out of his crypt, too full of contained energy to even attempt to contain himself. He itched to drop by Xander’s house and check to see if the humans were alright, but he had a plan and was sticking to it. Giving the Slayer some information she needed was certainly a great way to stay in her good graces.

With his duster billowing behind him and all the Big Bad swagger he could muster, he entered Willy’s place and stopped past the threshold for a second, lighting a cigarette as he surveyed the room. Few demons yet, but it would change during the night.

Approaching the bar, he noticed that Willy appeared to have had a close encounter with a couple of fists; but that wasn’t out of the ordinary in this place, so he paid it little attention.

“A bottle of bourbon and a pint of blood,” he requested, throwing the bills on the counter. “Fresh blood, mind you.”

Or as fresh as it could be coming from a blood bank. Spike didn’t indulge very often, for the simple reason that it was hard to go back to the animal variety after getting a taste of the real thing, but human blood would be good for his still healing shoulder, as well as for appearances.

Willy’s eyes widening ever so slightly as they shifted past Spike’s shoulder was the only warning he received before a large clawed hand closed on his shoulder. He turned to the demon – the three of them, as it turned out – and barely saw the fist coming that took him out. When he regained consciousness in the back alley, the same demons threw accusations and warnings at him before finally returning inside the bar, leaving him on the ground.

Stroking his sore jaw, Spike stood and gave a hard look to the bar. The demons in town had been more on edge than usual, lately, with rumors about the Initiative and ‘314’ going around. But this, he had never seen coming. More than a year of working with the Slayer, and only now was he being labeled a traitor? He’d have to find another way to get information. And another way to get money for his blood and cigarettes.

*****

The day had been long, far too long, and Buffy was exhausted. Dealing with Riley, in particular, had been nerve wrecking, and she understood now that it was the withdrawal from whatever drugs the Initiative had fed him that had caused his aggressive behavior. At least, bringing him back to the Initiative and demanding answers about ‘314’ had allowed her to finally put a face and name on her enemy. Frankenstein face and body, human, machine and demon combined, and a name that only hinted he was to be the first of many. Hopefully, with Walsh’s death, there would be no more experimenting of this kind by the Initiative. Still, Buffy didn’t know how she was going to deal with Adam; from what she had seen, a strength only tactic wouldn’t be a viable option.

With the threat posed by Walsh gone, Buffy had sent everybody home, freeing Xander’s basement much to Anya’s delight. She was now walking Willow back to their dorm, distractedly listening as her friend described that spell of her that hadn’t worked.

“OK, spill.”

Frowning in confusion, she glanced at Willow, noticing that she wore her resolve face.

“Huh?” she quite eloquently replied.

“What is bothering you so much?” Willow questioned. “Or rather who? A bleached blonde formerly evil vampire, maybe?”

“What? Spike? Why would you think… I’m just thinking about Adam, that’s all, he’s really strong and we’re going to have to come up with a plan to get rid of him.”

Willow made a small skeptical noise. “And that’s because you’re so worried about Adam that you’re going to check up on Spike, is that it?”

Cursing herself for having told her plans to her friend, Buffy tried to find a good excuse, but before she could Willow added:

“It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it, you know. I mean, sometimes people develop feelings for other people, and they’re not the kind of people you’d have expected the people to like, but they’re still good people so that’s all that should matter, right?”

They had arrived at the dorm and Buffy stopped, observing her friend, puzzled. There seemed to be a message hidden behind all that babbling, and it sounded like the positive, supportive kind, so she chose not to deepen the question.

“Right. I’ll be back in an hour or two, don’t wait for me, OK?”

A flicker of disappointment passed over Willow’s face, and then she hurried inside while Buffy left the campus. She felt bad about not telling everything to Willow, but she wasn’t sure what exactly she could have told her. Spike had feelings for her, that probably wasn’t entirely new. She didn’t know what her own feelings were, that was old news too. She wished it had been easier, as easy as when they had been under the love spell. She hadn’t worried, then, that he was a vampire and any relationship she developed with him was bound to end tragically. She had just taken what he was offering, and that was simply himself, without questions, only gratefulness. She had been happy, for a few precious hours. Careless. Free.

She missed that feeling.

*****

_Not one of my most glorious hours, that little discussion at the bar, that’s for sure. And for a moment I pondered getting back inside, teaching these wankers a lesson. But in the end, it wouldn’t have helped much. I did get back inside, glared right back at them, got the damn bottle I had paid for, and left. Went home, nursed my bourbon, getting a nice little buzz going as I tried to think of nothing. Nothing at all, and especially not the Slayer. The girl was trying to drive me to insanity, that much was clear. And if I needed a proof of that, she came to me just as I was finishing my bottle._

_“Just wanted to make sure you were OK,” she explained. “Anything could happen to you and we’d never know…”_

_She paused when she noticed my broken telly. She turned to me, her face asking the question she wasn’t voicing; and now, she was close enough to see the bruise on my jaw._

_“What happened?”_

_The barest trace of worry in her voice. That was nice. I took a deep breath, wanting to take her scent in, and got a nasty surprise instead. Had I been entirely sober, I might not have said anything. But my beginnings of drunkenness made me blunt._

_“His scent is all over you.”_

_She blinked, frowned, and shook her head. “What are you talking about?”_

_“That soldier. You smell like him. What did you do, snog him in exchange for more information?”_

_Her expression closed. Don’t I just know how to sweet-talk a woman?_

_“I did not… do whatever you say,” she glowered. “He was sick, I half carried him for a while. And it’s not like you have anything to say about what I…”_

_I had had enough. I reached out to her, pulled her to me, kissed her hard, like a drowning man coming up for air. That was just about how much I needed her._

_She didn’t return the kiss. She didn’t break it. Too surprised, maybe, to do either. When I let go of her, her fingers came up to touch her lips._

_“I have to go,” was all she said before leaving. I stared at the door for a long time after it had closed on her.  
_


	17. General Confusion

The brainstorming in Giles’ living room had turned into a glaring fest, and Buffy would have given anything to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Even fighting Adam with a toothpick for a sole weapon would have been better than this.

The previous night, as she was patrolling with Willow and Xander, they had dropped by Spike’s crypt. She hadn’t been sure whether to be annoyed or relieved that he wasn’t there. The kiss from the night before was still fresh in her mind; and the fluttering of her heart every time she thought of it wasn’t helping her stay focused on the hunt for their new foe. They had left a note on his fridge where Spike was bound to see it, asking him to come by Giles’ the next afternoon. Giles had been the one who suggested inviting him, pointing out that since Spike could fight demons, he would be able to help against Adam and that they did need all the help they could get.

Spike had showed up only a few minutes late and had complained about daytime meetings and the Scoobies trying to get him dusted. But he had shown up and not once had questioned the fact that they needed him, or that they wanted his help. Buffy had tried to avoid looking at him too much, but somehow every time she had glanced toward where he was sitting on the steps their gazes had met and the tiniest smile had tugged at his lips. It didn’t help her at all to stay attentive during the discussion.

They had just started brainstorming their options for fighting Adam when a knock on the door and then Riley’s entrance interrupted them. He had hesitated briefly, after noticing Spike, and then he had ignored him totally as he had come forward, restating that he was there to help. He had come to Buffy’s dorm earlier that day, catching her for the few minutes she was there to change clothes between patrols, and had managed to convince her that his desire to help was genuine.

Spike’s sour mood had started to manifest itself shortly after Riley’s arrival. No more smiles, only frowns and pointed glares that made quite clear what he soon was voicing in unequivocal terms. He didn’t trust Riley, and he couldn’t understand why anyone else – _Buffy_ – did.

In truth, she couldn’t fault him, not after getting a clearer idea of what the Initiative was like and what Spike must have gone through. Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t afford to turn her nose up on Riley’s offered help. Moreover, she couldn’t see what the Initiative would have had to gain by sending a double agent to them, whereas there was a lot they could learn by having someone on the inside.

“Spike, we heard you the first time around,” she interrupted him, more harshly than she had meant to, when he started snarking again about the soldier amongst them. “You don’t trust Riley, and it’s clear that Riley doesn’t trust you either. We’ll make sure that you two don’t have to work together; but right now, we’re not turning away anyone who wants to help.”

The look Spike gave her was an icy glare laced with pained disappointment; and though he didn’t say a word, she could hear loud and clear what he had to say. She trusted a quasi stranger as much as she trusted the person who had fought by her side for a year. She trusted one of the people who had hurt Spike. She was acting as though there had been nothing between her and Spike.

But was there something between them? Did she want it? _Could_ she want it?

And she was right back where she had started, to the confusion of a few months back. Suspecting – no, knowing – what Spike felt for her, and being clueless as to what her own feelings were.

Except that she was beginning to suspect it might not be cluelessness as much as fear.

The phone rang, cutting short her train of thoughts and interrupting Xander’s inquiry about whether Riley would be able to get them more weapons. Giles answered and called Buffy to the phone; and as she learned that Faith had awoken and escaped the hospital, Adam was suddenly thrown to the back of her mind.

Spike, however, remained front and center.

*****

As usual, Spike was sitting in the back row, a simple spectator even though he had offered to be player in Faith’s hunt.

Buffy had dismissed his offer with no more thought than when she had earlier accepted the wanker’s help, pointing out with stinging words that there wasn’t a thing he could do about Faith anyway. He already knew that, didn’t he? He was aware of how much of a puppy the Slayer thought he was, aware that invitations to their planning meetings were more to indulge him than because they really thought he could help. He would rather not have been invited than to see the wanker accepted into the group more quickly than he had ever been. Then, he also wouldn’t have seen the way the idiot had looked at Buffy and how careful she had been not to return his glances, just like she had avoided looking at Spike. Trust her to pretend nothing had ever happened between them, or that she didn’t know exactly how he felt.

Even if she had told him to stay out of it, or maybe precisely because she had, he made a point of patrolling that night, on the look out for a petite brunette and her scent. A couple of times, he thought he had gotten her trail, even found a dead demon abandoned in a back alley and a pair of annoying Scoobies. But in the end, he didn’t find her. Which wasn’t so bad. What would he have done if he had? What _could_ he have done?

*****

Giles was only half listening to Xander’s babbling as they patrolled together. He didn’t actually believe that Faith would go after Xander, whatever ‘history’ they might have had. There were undoubtedly more attractive targets for her, and one of them was actually right there in front of them, coming out of a dark alley, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Spike,” Xander acknowledged with a slight nod as he lowered the Initiative’s weapon he had insisted on taking along.

“What are you doing here?” Giles asked even though he was rather sure Spike was doing the same thing they were.

“Free country, ain’t it?” he replied defiantly.

Giles gave a small shake of head. “Certainly. You are entirely free to wander around and risk being taken by the Initiative or dusted by Faith.”

Spike’s only reaction was to scowl as he pushed past them and strode away; frowning slightly, Giles watched him disappear around a corner. Riley had, somewhat reluctantly, given them information about what had been done to Spike, roughly explaining that a computer chip had been inserted into his brain and that it inflicted pain each time Spike seriously considered or actually tried to hurt a human. It was only a matter of time, Giles was sure, before Spike tried to have the microchip removed, whatever the risk of brain damage. And he suspected that each reminder of his near fangless state was only another push in that direction. As much as Giles frowned upon what the Initiative had done to Spike, to other demons, and to Adam, he couldn’t help the slight relief that Spike was harmless to humans now. Seeing how close he was to all of them, especially Buffy, it was somehow reassuring.

Motioning to Xander, Giles started walking again. They had matters to take care of more pressing than Spike’s fate; Faith and Adam were both perfectly able to hurt innocents.

*****

Spike wasn’t in his crypt when Buffy entered it; she missed the time when he used to come to her every night. It was becoming annoying not to be able to find him whenever she needed to talk to him, especially when there were too many people out there who could, and would, hurt him in a heartbeat. Not that she had any reason to worry about him, evidently, and whom was she trying to fool? Of course, she was worried. Wasn’t that why she was there?

After pacing for a few minutes, she gave up on waiting and decided to leave, but just as she was reaching for the door, it opened to reveal Spike. A raised eyebrow was the only sign of surprise he gave as he stepped around her and made a beeline to his fridge. She watched him silently as he pulled out a bag of blood and sank his fangs into it before draining it in a few quick pulls.

She had debated with herself about how to say this, and now that he was there, it didn’t make things any easier. Still, she had to say it.

“Have you thought about my suggestion?” she asked, stepping a few steps closer to where he had taken a seat on the sarcophagus. He had already disposed of the empty blood bag and had shrugged out of his duster, placing it next to him on the stone. He observed her as he fished out a cigarette pack from his pocket and lit one; she tried not to fidget under his gaze.

“What suggestion’s that?” he finally replied, exhaling blue smoke.

“Getting out of town until things get…”

“No.”

Feeling very much like stomping her foot at his stubbornness, Buffy came closer still, the fleeting thought passing through her mind that she was as unable to resist him as a moth was to going toward the light.

“Faith is not the Initiative,” she said as calmly as she could. “She knows where you live, knows how to hunt vampires, and she won’t play when she finds you.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he shot back irritably. “I know the bint, and I can take care of myself.”

The hard look he gave her all but dared her to mention the chip, which she had been about to do. Instead, she let it go. He knew what he could and couldn’t do; there was no reason to make him feel any more useless. Maybe if she found another angle…

“Listen, I saw her today…”

A flicker of renewed interest in his eyes invited her to continue.

“And she made it clear she is going to try to hurt me through the people I… care about.”

Her hesitation didn’t go unnoticed, and if at all possible, his gaze hardened even more.

“Then I should be safe,” he spat bitterly. “She’ll go after Captain Cardboard before she even thinks of me.”

Buffy shook her head, both at the idiocy of his statement and at how it echoed Faith’s earlier words. It seemed that she had seen them all at Giles’, and she had ranted about Buffy almost killing her to save a vampire she wasn’t even dating.

“Why do you think I’m here?” she challenged. “Because I’m worried about Riley? I wonder why I even bother.”

With a last glare, she turned her back on him and walked out, fuming against men in general and this one in particular. It was already hard enough for her, why did he have to make things even more difficult?

*****

_Things were difficult for her? Ah bloody ah. What am I supposed to say about how difficult it was for me?_

_Alright, I can’t say my experience with women is very extensive. But I’d bet that no one – no one at all in this dimension and any other you can name – is as complicated as the Slayer when it comes to what she feels and how to express it._

_Yes, I understand that she had a bad experience with a vampire before me. Hell, I was there, wasn’t I? Saw the whole bloody show happening. Even had a small role. But was it a reason to blow hot and cold on me like that for so long? Drove me insane, that’s what she did. Completely and utterly. Which might be why when I next saw her…_

_But I’m going a bit too fast, ain’t I? See, I can learn not to tell too much._

_Right. So where were we?_

_Oh, of course. The Slayer. Asking me to come by for a Scooby meeting, ignoring me for most of it, refusing my help in hunting Faith, and dropping by my crypt to hint that she cared about me, worried for my safety, and that I was an idiot._

_What was I supposed to believe? That she did care but didn’t dare say it in simpler words? That’s at least what I chose to think. I opened myself for possibly more blows, but for a while, at least, hope was nice._

_She was wrong, by the way. Faith didn’t come after me. Or at least, not on purpose. She went after Joyce and Dawn, and if I had stopped to think for a minute that night, I would have realized it too, as the Slayer had. Might have gone to Revello and been there to help, however I could. Would I have seen the change immediately? I like to think I would have, but I guess I’ll never know._


	18. Kisses

Spike had never paid much attention to Faith when she was still working on the same side as the Scoobies; he had been too busy keeping an eye on _his_ Slayer. But from what he knew, she wasn’t the kind of person who would remain hidden. On the contrary, she would be in plain sight, flaunting herself; he was ready to bet his duster on it. And that was why he was at the Bronze, eyeing the crowd, his senses on alert. What he hadn’t expected was to find Buffy there.

She was dancing, oblivious to everything around her. Faith could have been right in front of her and she wouldn’t have noticed. Eyes closed, head thrown back, body pulsing to the wild music, she was quite a sight; and he was unable to take his eyes off her.

The series of fast songs ended, and the breathless Slayer walked off the dance floor, coming straight to where Spike was leaning against the bar. Not as oblivious as he had thought, then.

“Hey there Spikey,” she said with a bright smile. “What’s up?”

“ _Spikey_?” he sputtered, offended.

Her grin only widened.

“Just a little sign of affection,” she assured him and then stepped close enough to him that he could feel the heat coming off her body. He practically jumped when her hands slipped under his duster and settled on his hips.

“Affection?” he repeated, vaguely aware that he was doing a fine impersonation of a parrot, but too bewildered by her behavior to care much about it.

“Of course, affection. You think I haven’t staked you in all this time just because you’re a good fighter? I’m the Slayer, I don’t need help, you know. Especially not from a vampire.”

Blinking several times, Spike tried to understand what was happening. She was getting quite… _affectionate_ , but at the same time she was practically telling him he was useless when before she had seemed intent on proving otherwise.

“I can do anything I want,” she continued, her tone practically dripping sex as her hands traveled from his sides up to his chest. “I can keep you around if I want to, or I could stake you.” A small tap above his heart punctuated her words. “I could decide to give you the night of your life, ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you popped like warm champagne, and you'd beg me to…”

The words were too much, conjuring images from their night together until Spike could almost feel her again around him, searing silk under his hands and lips. Unable to resist the memories, he roughly grabbed her waist and, pulling her to him, kissed her. Lips, teeth and tongues, the kiss was hard and demanding, and she was into it right away, without missing a beat, without any of her prior reserve. He wanted to growl at the feel of her mouth, of her hot little hands sliding under his shirt and t-shirt to find cool flesh. Yet, at the same time, it all felt very strange. She had been that passionate before, but never in public, and the kiss was somehow… different. Nothing he could have explained, only a weird feeling, like a flash of color right on the edge of his vision.

Puzzled, he pulled away from her lips and she let out a little disappointed sigh. Immediately though, a naughty grin lit her face.

“How about we take this show somewhere else?” she murmured with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. “I think it’s time to finally taste the forbidden fruit, what do you say?”

Her hands, still caressing his chest, were driving him insane, and he caught her wrists to stop her and be able to think clearly for a minute. The way she was talking, it almost sounded as if she had forgotten about their first time. Something was wrong.

“Are you drunk?” he asked bluntly, but he already knew the answer. There had been no taste of alcohol on her tongue.

She took a step back, and for the first time her smile wavered.

“Drunk?” she laughed. “Because I want to have a go with you? You should really work on your self esteem, you know.”

He shook his head, certain now that something was not right with her. Before he could question her behavior however, she shrugged and moved backwards.

“Right then. Forget it. I have stuff to do anyway.”

And without a goodbye, she was gone, the first normal thing she had done the whole evening. Spike watched her weave her way through the crowd, frowning slightly as he tried to understand what the hell had been going on.

*****

Buffy’s hands were trembling as she took the tea Giles was offering her. Except, they weren’t her hands, were they?

She gave him a smile of thanks, even though she had no desire whatsoever for tea. Years of knowing him had proved that preparing the beverage helped him relax and think; she definitely needed his full mental capabilities now. Faith was out there, wearing her body, able to get close to Buffy’s friends, to her mom, and who knew what she would do? Who knew what she had done, already?

After barely touching her lips to the tea, she set the cup down on the coffee table in front of her. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she hid her face – Faith’s face – in her hands. Giles remained oblivious as he continued to go through a dusty magic book, muttering under his breath.

The door opened abruptly and Buffy’s senses tingled. Strange how the sensation was the same even if the body wasn’t hers. She didn’t turn toward Spike; the prospect of another person not seeing past the appearance to recognize her was depressing. The thought that he, in particular, may not recognize her, was somehow even worse.

“Rupert, there’s something going on with the Slayer. She…”

Hearing this, Buffy rose from her seat to look at Spike, and his voice trailed off as his eyebrows shot to the ceiling. Her breath caught in her throat when he tilted her head to one side and after a few seconds murmured:

“Buffy?”

She wanted to laugh and cry all at once as she realized that he knew who she was, and she couldn’t have voiced the gratitude words that burned her lips to save her own life.

“How did you know it was her?” Giles asked, reminding both of them that they weren’t alone.

Spike shrugged, and his eyes never left Buffy even as he answered her Watcher. “Don’t know. Just a feeling. That and I saw Buffy’s body, and it definitely wasn’t her in the driver’s seat.”

That shook Buffy out of her torpor, and her fists closed despite herself. “Where is she?”

“At the Bronze. But she left before I did. It was Faith, wasn’t it?”

Buffy nodded. “I’ve got to find her.”

She hadn’t taken two steps toward the door before Giles stopped her with a hand on her arm and a few words.

“The Council is out there looking for you. Well, not you, but… Anyway, it isn’t safe for you to be wandering around. Willow has a book of mine, I’ll go find her and we’ll be back. We’ll find a solution.”

Something on her face must have shown that she wasn’t convinced, because as he grabbed his jacket Giles stopped in front Spike and indicated Buffy with a tilt of his head.

“Make sure she stays here,” he advised Spike, who grimly nodded in reply.

Grumbling about being too old to have a babysitter, Buffy took her now cold tea to the kitchen, aware that Spike’s eyes followed her.

“How did you know?” she called above her shoulder, thinking back of his words. “What did she do to make you think something was wrong with me?”

Silence stretched behind her and when Buffy finished rinsing the cup and turned, she was startled to find him only a step away.

“That’s how,” he said quietly and, cupping her face in one hand, pressed his lips to hers.

In other circumstances, she might have accepted the comfort he was offering, but at that instant, she couldn’t. Not when she wasn’t really herself, not when he was confessing to having done the very same thing with Faith. She jerked out of his touch and glared at him.

“You kissed her?” she asked, incredulous that he would even admit it.

“No. I kissed you. Or tried to, at least.”

She snorted. Angry, she tried to walk out of the kitchen and away from him. Why she had believed he would recognize her any better than Giles, she had no idea. And why her eyes were filling with tears was an even bigger mystery.

“Not so fast, would you?”

A strong hand caught her at the waist, pulled her back against his chest. She struggled a little, trying to free herself half-heartedly, but both his arms around her trapped her.

“She was playing with me,” he murmured against the back of her head. “Playing with my mind, trying to… I thought it was one of your usual games, blowing hot and cold…”

“I don’t do any such thing!” she protested indignantly, but remained where she was.

“You do, luv. Whether you realize it or not. And she was doing the same. So, I kissed her, tried to shut her up. Tried to shut _you_ up. I knew then. Just knew it wasn’t you.”

The arms around her tightened ever so slightly for a second.

“She tried to keep playing, suggested we find a place and…”

He laughed, but it was a weak, bitter laugh. “It just confirmed my doubts then, and I must have shown it because she practically fled when I didn’t go along with it. But I knew you’d never suggest…”

Turning in his embrace, she placed two fingers across his lips. He had had the chance to get her, or at least her body, in bed, and he had refused. It didn’t really surprise her, he apparently had done the same thing months before when she was drunk, but then she had thought he wasn’t interested in her anymore, and now she knew better. The tight knot of fear and suspicion in her chest loosened a bit, enough for her to dare take a risk. Her heart beat wildly, both at the close contact, at his words and at the ones she was going to offer.

“I wouldn’t suggest it today,” she whispered. “But if you give me time…”

A flame burned bright in his eyes, but disappeared almost instantly.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he requested, and his voice was rough and trembling all at once. “Don’t play with me again.”

She wanted to protest the ‘again’, because she had never consciously played with his feelings. But if she was honest with herself, she could see how it could have appeared him as if she had.

“I’m not playing,” she assured him as she tentatively slipped her arms around him. “I mean it.”

The best way to prove that, she felt, was for once to take the initiative, and she did just that. Bringing a slightly trembling hand to the back of his head, she led him down to her lips. It was oddly reminiscent of their first kiss. A soft caress, a promise to be fulfilled, and all too short.

She blinked as he pulled away, the fear back full force as she wondered if, what, why.

“As much as I want this,” he murmured, soothing her with the back of his knuckles against her cheek, “I’d much rather wait ‘til you’re back in your own body, luv.”

For a second, she didn’t understand; and when she did, she laughed. Trust him to make her forget about Faith. About everything that wasn’t them.

*****

_Forget everything, eh? I was right there with her. Can’t say it was easy to stop her when she was the one starting things, when she was so warm in my arms, so willing, so delicious… But it wasn’t her, not really, just like the girl at the Bronze wasn’t her either. I couldn’t wait for the two parts to be reunited and make the woman I loved whole again. Whole, and, just a little bit, maybe, mine._

_It took a bit of work to fix her, and there wasn’t much I could do. The witches came up with a spell of sorts, and all they needed was to find Faith. I suggested hunting her scent down, but events accelerated and there was no need to look for her. They found Faith in a church, fighting vamps in the middle of the day. Yeah, I thought that was peculiar, too._

_Talking of the witches… I think that was the first time Tara was introduced to us. I barely said a couple of words to her, and she opened big doe eyes when they told her I was a good vampire, but something about her just… I don’t know. Clicked. Lovely lady._

_Buffy wanted to go after her when the Faith fled to LA. I convinced her not to. Convinced her that making a phone call to Angel warning him to be on the lookout would be more than sufficient. Convinced her that staying in Sunnydale with me would be much more pleasant. Proved it too._

_We went back to our habits from before the debacle. Stolen kisses, fleeting touches. Both of us wary that the other would stop everything again. I couldn’t patrol with her as I used to, not with the Initiative still around, and with the time she spent looking for Adam we weren’t together very often, and never for long. But for a start – a second start – it was enough._

_What?_

_You don’t believe me?_

_Oh, alright. It wasn’t enough. There. Happy?_

_What do you want me to say? That I was hard every time I saw her? That our little sessions made it even worse? That I spent too much time wanking to the memories of our one and only night? That I came close, more than once, to pushing things further and risk a repeat of the morning after if she wasn’t ready, just so I’d taste her, her heat once more at least?_

_Right then. I said it. Move along now.  
_


	19. More Than Fine

Things had been quiet, in the last couple of days. At Buffy’s insistence, Spike had cut down his search for information about Adam to the bare minimum so that he wouldn’t risk coming across the Initiative. It was nice to know she cared about him that much, that she worried for his safety, but being stuck in the crypt day and night wasn’t exactly his favorite pastime. He still hadn’t found a replacement for the television the soldiers had destroyed during their last visit, and that left him with very little to do with his time other than think of the Slayer. And thinking of her usually led to even more frustration that he couldn’t go out and join her.

Every few nights, she stopped by, told him about her day, about anything new that might be going on. Each time, she left too soon. They would talk for a while, kiss, even touch a bit, but there was always a point when she’d break off contact, give him a small apologetic smile that he had come to recognize instantly and hated with all his heart, and then leave. He never knew what would set her off. Never knew what to do, what to say, to convince her not to flee. But each time she did, the pain was searing; the fear growing a little deeper that this was going nowhere. He wouldn’t give up, though. Not on her, not on them.

Maybe he needed a little help, and even though he wasn’t particularly fond of Jonathan – hard not to be a bit jealous of a man who succeeded in everything he did – Spike wasn’t above requesting his assistance, not if it meant getting closer to Buffy. He had heard her more than once say how helpful he was to her; maybe the man could be helpful to them too.

*****

Sitting at a table in a coffee shop with Jonathan, Buffy couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to talk to him about anything. Willow was her best friend, no doubt there, but the way Jonathan listened to her, heard beyond her words to what she couldn’t say aloud… Well, she was lucky that he’d take time out of his busy schedule to listen to her problems. There really was no one else she could have told about Spike.

“Buffy,” he sighed. His faint smile showed traces of disappointment that made her feel guilty enough to drop her gaze to the swirls of cream in her coffee. “How many times have we talked about this? Spike is not Angel.”

“I know, I know,” she protested weakly. “I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t help it. Every time we’re together I wonder if today is the day he’ll break my heart.”

There was a pause in the conversation as two girls approached Jonathan for autographs and he graciously complied. Used to the occurrences, Buffy busied herself with her coffee.

“He can’t break your heart,” Jonathan said when they were alone at last, and she looked at him questioningly. “He can’t break what you haven’t given him.”

She wanted to deny that, her mouth already open. Of course, she had given him her heart; she didn’t flirt with just anyone, and there had been a lot of that with Spike since the incident with Faith. But Jonathan simply arched an eyebrow and the denial died in her throat.

“I’m trying,” she murmured. “But it’s not easy.”

Jonathan nodded. “Love never is. But that’s the price to pay.”

She sighed and again looked into her coffee cup as if it would give her all the answers to the hard questions that seemed to be her life. The cream seemed to form a swirling S, and immediately, the image of Spike floated in her mind. He was never far from her thoughts these days. He hadn’t been in a long time.

“He recognized me even when I wasn’t in my body,” she murmured. “It has to mean something, right?”

She raised a hopeful look to Jonathan, who was taking a sip from his own cup. He smiled at her.

“It can mean anything you want it to, Buffy. But I think you already have your opinion on that. You’re just too afraid to admit it to yourself. But you can face this fear; I know you can.”

It was difficult not to believe words that he said with such conviction; she suddenly felt ready to take a chance and give Spike and herself a real chance. It would have been much easier if she had known for sure how he felt, though. She thought she knew, but what if she was wrong?

*****

The chances that Jonathan would actually be there were pretty slim, but even so, Spike had to try his luck. The sun hadn’t set very long ago, and it was still too early for the Slayer to be visiting him. It was the best time to be out of his crypt if he needed to do something, and this was something he had to do, for himself, and for Buffy.

He hadn’t expected to be invited in, and so he wasn’t surprised when the butler made him wait at the door for Jonathan to come to him. He was surprised, however, by the kind look he received. Jonathan had voiced his reservations before about Spike’s place in the gang; he had only mellowed after Spike had been chipped.

“Let me guess,” Jonathan said, as he motioned Spike to follow him toward the driveway and the cars parked there. “You’re here about Buffy.”

Spike shrugged a little, uneasy about how quickly Jonathan had uncovered his purpose.

“She has been talking about you a lot lately, Spike.”

Jonathan opened the door of a convertible and climbed inside, indicating the passenger seat with a tilt of his head. Spike hesitated an instant before getting in the car.

“She has?” he questioned, frowning a little. “What did she say?”

Smiling, Jonathan set the vehicle in motion. “I don’t think she’d want me to share her confidences with anyone. But you can safely assume that she is very confused about her feelings.”

“’Knew that already,” Spike muttered grumpily.

“And yours.”

That made Spike look up in surprise. She was confused about what he felt for her? What else did he need to do to convince her of the truth of his feelings? What did she need for proof? He didn’t realize he had said that aloud until Jonathan replied.

“The actual words usually work well.”

He made a small noise of incomprehension that prompted Jonathan to continue.

“You love her, don’t you? When’s the last time you told her?”

Spike kept quiet as he thought. He had first said it during that night they had spent in each other’s arms. She hadn’t answered then; perhaps she had been asleep. The next day hadn’t been so nice. He had said it again while they were under Willow’s spell, and once again the waking up had been shattering. But there had been so much going on since then. So many looks, smiles, words…

“She has to know,” he said with a shake of his head. “She can’t not know. Not after everything that happened.”

They had apparently arrived at their destination because Jonathan stopped the car and turned to face Spike, a completely serious look on his face.

“She does want to believe, but she’s afraid she’s mistaken about you. And I don’t blame her, I had my doubts myself. But you’re right, a lot has happened. The simple fact that you came to me tells me a lot. Now all you need to do is go to her and simply tell her. Believe me, words can be very powerful.”

Still pondering the advice – such a simple thing… could it really work? – Spike watched Jonathan get out of the car and realized where they were. The Bronze.

“She should be here tonight,” Jonathan called out before stepping into the club. “And the Initiative won’t be.”

Still sitting in the car, Spike smoked a cigarette, then a second one before walking inside the club. He was either going to lose it all on this, or he might just win. And the stakes were definitely worth it. If she wanted words, words the Slayer would get.

*****

Unlike the rest of the room, Buffy’s eyes had not turned to the scene as excited cries made it clear that Jonathan had finally appeared, for the simple reason that at the same instant the telltale prickling at the back of her neck had distracted her. A vampire was in the room, and her eyes were going over the patrons, searching. It wasn’t any vampire that had entered the Bronze, but rather one she would be happy to see even if he ought not to take such risks.

She finally found him, standing on the catwalk almost directly above the table she shared with her friends, and caught his gaze. He tilted his head toward a corner where they wouldn’t be too noticeable, and she nodded. The Scoobies barely paid attention to her as she excused herself, all of them enthralled by Jonathan’s voice; she made it up to the catwalk and to Spike in mere seconds.

Just as the current song was ending, Jonathan announced into the microphone, “I’d like to dedicate the next song to friends of mine. A very special couple who needed a little help, but I think they’ll be fine now.”

The crowd murmured as Jonathan started singing again, but Buffy heard neither them nor him. As she stood a foot only from Spike, drowning in his gaze, the words she had just heard were replaying in her mind. There was no doubt for her that he had been talking about her and Spike, and she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Will we be fine?” she blurted out, her heart hammering in her chest.

Spike’s hand rose, and a single finger traced the curve of her jaw. She shivered and unconsciously leaned into his touch.

“I think,” he murmured, his gaze still locked to hers, “that we’ll be more than fine.”

His hand dropped, and she wanted to protest until it settled at her waist. He pulled her closer just as she wove her arms around his neck and they started swaying gently to the music. Unbidden, the memory of the prom dance they had shared resurfaced in Buffy’s mind, and she realized how far she had come since then. How far they both had come.

“Buffy…”

His voice was barely more than a breath against her temple, but he had put more emotions into her name than some people could place in a long speech. She held him a little tighter.

“Things haven’t been very easy between us this year,” he started, but she softly cut him in.

“Do we have to talk? Less talk. More dancing.”

Burrowing her face against him, she closed her eyes, enjoyed the feel of being in his arms, the light play of his fingers at the small of her back.

“But if I don’t talk, how am I going to tell you I love you?”

She froze, blinked, raised her face to see him, see his eyes, be sure… Naked truth on his face, and well-hidden fear; nothing more. She wished she could have said something in return, but the words refused to rise. Not yet, it was too soon still, but soon… Slowly, she leaned in toward him, and barely brushed her lips to his. He smiled, and Buffy knew then that he’d been right. They would be more than fine.

*****

_She didn’t reply in kind that night, but I hadn’t expected her to. Words were good and all, but they needed some time to sink in too, and I had been too patient so far to risk anything by rushing her now. Though, I can’t say I wasn’t glad it didn’t take long._

_Our little dance didn’t last very long after that, interrupted as we were by a shrieking girl from Jonathan’s little fan club who had been attacked by whatever demon he had conjured. But you didn’t explain that, did you? Bits of magic, yadda yadda, he wasn’t the superstar we all thought he was, just a lonely kid who sorely craved attention. Buffy saved the day, clever girl that she is._

_There was a little itch through it all, though. When we climbed down the catwalk, the Scoobies saw us hand in hand, and there were some murmurs and questions at the next meeting. The wonder boy defended us, strangely enough, which gave her an excuse once the spell had faded. Of course, we weren’t together. It was just part of Jonathan’s fantasy, wasn’t it? They swallowed it all, hook, line and sinker._

_Yeah, I know. Clueless doesn’t begin to cover it, especially seeing how both Giles and Willow had suspicions at that point._

_At that time, I was ready for the world to know. She wasn’t. I knew what was stopping her from being honest with all of them, and it was hard to fault her. They’ve always been protective of her, too much so, to the point of being invasive, and there was no reason to think that their reaction would be anything other than negative. Still, it was starting to rub my nerves raw that she didn’t want to tell them. It was too much as if she’d been ashamed of me. I do not believe she was, but sometimes, I couldn’t help but wonder._

_No, I’m not blaming her, stop that._

_Yes, I am sure I’m not. What the fuck is your problem?_

_I don’t care that I said the opposite before. ‘M allowed to change my mind, ain’t I?_

_See, the thing is… now don’t go blabbering on about that, but… can’t say the people in my life ever led me to think I could be wanted. Starting with the social circles that William never really was a part of and a certain lady whose name I’d rather forget. Then I was turned, thought things would be different, and it didn’t take long for the first blow to land. With a just a few word, a demon erased a lifetime of maternal love. Drusilla flirting with Angelus destroyed in a flash my illusions that she was mine and mine only. Then Angelus left us, and that was the beginning of the end for our little family. So yeah, I’m kinda used to people not caring that much about how I feel or what I want. And for a while, yes, the way Buffy acted was awfully familiar. But it didn’t last, and when they finally knew, when she finally stood up for me, for us, in front of them… well, let’s just say that I had been wrong when I thought I couldn’t love her any more than I already did._


	20. Once More Under A Spell

Trying to catch her breath, Buffy eyed the dead demon in front of her. It hadn’t been that strong or difficult to slay, but she could admit that she had fumbled for a minute when it had first appeared, more from surprise than anything else. She had never seen anything like this before.

“A demon coming to a vamp’s help?” she wondered out loud. “That’s just…”

“Against nature,” a rumbling voice finished for her right behind her ear as arms snaked around her waist. She leaned back against the vampire behind her. “No lost love between demons and us, usually. It’s the first time I’ve ever see something like this.”

Turning in Spike’s embrace to face him, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips and held him a little closer.

“We’ve got to tell Giles,” she said before kissing him again, this time on his chin. “It could be important.”

He nodded as he pressed a line of kisses along his jaw. “Yes. Tell Giles. We should go right now.”

She murmured in agreement but didn’t move. The hands sliding under the fabric of her top to caress her flesh felt too good to break contact.

“Except we can’t go together,” she suddenly realized. “He’ll wonder why you were with me if we do and…”

Spike’s hands stilled and he pulled back, just enough to meet her gaze. She thought he was going to comment on no one knowing about them; maybe even ask her why she wasn’t telling them yet. She had been expecting that particular question for a while already, ever since Jonathan’s little spell. At least, one good thing had come out of this mess, and they had truly found each other.

Or maybe he’d protest again about being away from her too often and how he still could help her with patrol if she would only let him, the Initiative be damned. She could admit that she was glad he had found her tonight and had insisted on coming along, leaving her with the choice of staking him or accepting his presence. She was glad, not only because he had helped against the unlikely demon-vamp duo but also because being with him was a treat in itself.

Now more than ever before, she knew exactly how he felt, and each day she came closer to telling him the same words in return. That didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of the danger, and she realized all too acutely how close they were at that moment to the frat house that served as a cover-up to the Initiative’s entrance.

He didn’t say anything however. Instead, he kissed her again, this time more urgently; the warmth between them flared up like an inferno. When he let her catch her breath, she mumbled something about telling Giles first thing in the morning; and judging by the fervent kisses he pressed to her neck and down her shoulder, he agreed.

“Your crypt?” she breathed as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, trying to reach the smooth perfection that hid beneath.

“Too far. Dorm?”

Wicked fingers teased her hardening nipples and Buffy muffled a moan against his chest.

“Can’t. Willow.”

He growled in frustration, and she was right there with him. They had been waiting for so long, taking things slow so as not to stumble a second time, that waiting any longer seemed unbearable.

She gasped in surprise when he hoisted her up and instinctively her legs came around to encircle his waist. Her second gasp was of pleasure as the movement pressed him right where she needed pressure. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent, and sighed in contentment.

“Too many clothes,” she managed to articulate as he took a few hesitant steps.

“Couldn’t agree more. Will get to that in a minute.”

He stopped and pulled her legs down; Buffy looked around them, mildly surprised. A few trees growing close together created a sort of circle that gave them some privacy yet enough room to play…

Belatedly noticing that Spike was working on her buttons and zips, Buffy joined him to help, and they were soon equally naked and standing amongst a pile of clothes. At the edge of her mind, the thought that this was too risky, way too risky for too many reasons, was an insistent and distracting buzz. But Buffy ignored it, ignored everything as she stood mere inches from Spike; she could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

Without needing to talk, they reached for each other at the same instant. The night swallowed moans and whispers and they lost themselves in the other. Sunrise was only moments away when they reluctantly separated again.

*****

After their glorious night together, the last thing Spike would have expected was spending the next evening at the Bronze with, of all people, Anya. It sometimes seemed as if life had a strange sense of humor.

Buffy had come to him that afternoon, still glowing from their time together, and they had spent some quality time cuddling in his bed. There were definitely perks to having a mattress. But all the while, it had seemed clear that she had something to say, and he had been more worried than he would have admitted that she was going to change her mind about them again. She hadn’t, but it had almost been as bad.

She had explained how the Initiative boys were having a party that night, and how she and the gang would go there to try to gather whatever information they could about Adam. He had growled his displeasure, not particularly thrilled at the idea that she would be around Finn and the other wankers, but she had refused to listen to reason. Refused, also, to let him come to the party, claiming, as usual, that it was too dangerous for him.

Apparently, Anya had had a slight disagreement with Harris too and had decided to have some fun by herself, which was how Spike had come across her. Now sharing a beer inside the Bronze, they were talking about the good old times, when everything was simpler and they were demons without ties to the human world.

“Boy, I miss those powers,” she sighed.

Spike nodded. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

It wasn’t that he missed the killing, he told himself as he distractedly listened to Anya. He found enough fun in slaying demons that he was satisfied. But always wondering, when he faced a human, whether his once prey would stake him without him being able to do a thing was depressing.

“Seen a thousand relationships,” Anya said wistfully. “First there's the love, and sex, and then there's nothing left but the vengeance. That's how it works.”

The statement left Spike bitter; hard not to think of Buffy when he heard those words. Hard not to wonder what she was doing at that instant.

“So… I hear there is a party tonight?” he commented after a few pensive seconds. “Wanna go?”

He had lost Buffy once. He wouldn’t take any risk that may make him lose her a second time.

*****

At the second when she saw Spike enter the fraternity house, Buffy’s heart missed a beat. He had to be completely insane to show up where so many Initiatives’ soldiers were assembled. Only a moment before she had been talking to Riley, getting a few details about Adam; and if he had grudgingly accepted that Spike might be fighting on the same side as them, she doubted he would be happy to see him there.

She went to Spike, reaching him and Anya the same time as Xander did, and managed to pull him to the side where she intended to give him a piece of her mind. But the contact of her hand on his arm sent sparks through her, and before she knew it they were kissing furiously, right in the open where anyone could see.

The next moments were a blur, and she couldn’t have explained how she was suddenly in one of the rooms upstairs, naked on a bed that wasn’t hers and pulling an equally naked Spike closer to her, in her, until the awareness of where her body stopped and his started disappeared.

Their rhythm was frantic, at first. Strong thrusts of his hips that pushed harsh cries from her throat, fingers clawing at his back as she urged him on. It was as if they were trying to catch up on lost time; but rather than a few months, it appeared to be decades of lovemaking they were struggling to make up for. She lost the count of how many times she came, lost in his kisses, in his touch, in the loving whispers that fell from his lips. She couldn’t get enough of him, and even when they rested for a few instants, after each round, she had to touch him, feel him against her, and know, without the possibility for doubt, that he’d always be there. And if she was to believe how he never let go of her, he felt the same need.

As time passed, they started to calm down, barely. The urgency had faded, and now they could truly savor each caress, make each stroke last for a sweet eternity. Buffy was exhausted, but she didn’t want to stop, not now, not ever. Never wanted to leave this room, leave his side. This was where she belonged, and in one instant of perfect clarity, she knew.

“I love you.”

Spike froze under her, still panting for unneeded air as he slowly climbed down from his high. The room was dark, but she still could see his eyes, wide open, unsure, wondering if he had heard her right or imagined it.

“I love you,” she repeated, smiling, and leaned down to kiss him.

Their lips were tender as they met, soft with love, insistent with unvoiced promises. Their tongues were more playful, battling as they had once sparred, neither willing to give in to the other, neither quite ready to win either. They rolled to their sides and slowly started moving together without ever breaking the kiss. Languid hands upon heated flesh, legs entwined as their hips worked in the same rhythm, they slowly reached once more toward the pleasure that would erase everything, toward a love that didn’t fear itself anymore.

Buffy didn’t realize it then, and only would hours later, but all her reserves, all the apprehension she had known since she had become attracted to him had disappeared, vanishing without a trace in the heat of their passion.

When they reached completion once again, they remained still for a little while, holding on tight, watching each other, smiling softly. Buffy had never felt more at peace than she did at that instant. She had never felt more loved.

It didn’t last, though; it couldn’t. Again desire rose in both of them, demanding that they acted on it, and they complied. Back to a rough coupling, as rough as it could be with both of them so tired, so sore, but always willing, always…

The door opening abruptly to reveal Xander, Anya, and Riley put an end to the illusion that they were alone in the world while at the same time it shattered the hold the house’s resident spirits had on them.

*****

_We never figured out if our little escapade the night before that was a first manifestation of the haunting or if that was what had set everything in motion. We were on the frat house’s grounds, so maybe it was affecting us already. Or maybe the passion of that night woke the spirits. Doesn’t really matter, I suppose, but I wish I knew for certain. It’d be nice to know that our second first time – that’s what Buffy called it afterwards – was something deliberate, and not the result of some ghosts playing with us._

_The gang, of course, was quick to think that Buffy and I had fallen in bed together only because of the horny house spirits. Same deal as when we were under Willow’s spell, they said. A coincidence, nothing more, and neither of us should feel bad about not being able to resist. I didn’t say anything, knowing all too well that I risked a staking if I told them what was really going on between her and me. I have to admit that I was wondering myself if she had slept with me only because we had been possessed. If she had only said the words because of it. I was so tired of spells that left me unsure of what was real and what was only wishful thinking._

_Then, she surprised me._

_It was the evening after the haunting; Buffy was at the Bronze with the Witches, Harris, and his girl when I showed up. Silence fell on the group, and after a few seconds, Harris said something about how my presence had to be difficult for Buffy. He was only trying to protect her and not being deliberately nasty to me, I can concede that. But the words stung just the same. I bit down on the retort that was rising to my lips and started to turn my back on them. The Slayer caught my hand and stopped me._

_“Who said it was difficult?” she said, the determination clear in her voice, as she looked at her friends in turn. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back, wondering what she was playing at; and then she added:_

_“Spike and I are together. We were together before we were possessed. This is not a subject of discussion; if you don’t approve I’d rather not hear it.”_

_No one said anything – including me. We were all too baffled to say a word. She used the opportunity to get away from them without a scene, pulling me after her. It was too easy, we both knew it, and we both expected the comments to fall eventually, but at least the first step was made._

_We went on patrol and for a long time I watched her, tried to understand. She was smiling, a soft, quiet smile that seemed to light the night. Eventually, I had to ask, even if it meant risking disappointment. I took her hand, held it tight to give me strength and asked:_

_“Last night… When you said…”_

_“I love you.”_

_Had my heart been beating, it probably would have stopped. The words had come out so easily that I didn’t consider for a second that she might not mean them. Even if I had, they were reflected so clearly in her eyes, on her face, in her kiss that there was no room left for doubt._

_There was no one with us, that night, as we proved it again without words but only moans and sighs. There were no tortured ghosts, poltergeist or whatnot. There was no memory of past lovers._

_There was only her and me.  
_


	21. Friends, Allies & Enemies

“I think none of them told Giles.”

Distracted by her fingers drumming a soft tattoo over his heart, Spike didn’t immediately understand what Buffy was referring to. She had shown up after the Scoobies’ meeting to tell him about it, and he was grateful for that. It was nice of her to keep him informed of what was going on, even if he would have preferred to be there. Especially now that he knew Finn had been present. But she was probably right; it was safer for Spike not to expose himself any more than necessary. Safer, also, not to be in the same room as the wanker. Although safer for whom was still to be determined.

“I’m pretty sure he would have said something if they had mentioned it,” she continued when he didn’t answer. “I can see his reaction from here.”

“His reaction to what?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

The drumming on his chest turned into a playful tap and as she sat up on the bed, she mock-glared at him.

“If I’m boring you, you might as well say it,” she pouted.

“Mmm… pouty lips…”

She laughed when he caught her waist and pulled her atop him to kiss her thoroughly. He started sliding his hands under her tank top but she pulled away again and shook a finger at him.

“No time for that,” she admonished. “That’s not what I came here for.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t,” he said with a little waggle of his eyebrow. “And we can make it quick…”

She shook her head, apparently unaffected by the offer; but if he believed the delicious scent of arousal coming from her, it was all an act.

“I just wanted to tell you what was going on,” she repeated. “But I can see you don’t care.”

She was pouting again, but this time she wasn’t joking and it sobered Spike instantly.

“I do care,” he assured her as he reached for her and gently pulled her back where she had been before, stretched out alongside him. “Been listening to you. Just find it strange that the Initiative gets all the demons and we don’t get to fight; but I’m not exactly going to offer them my help.”

The drumming of her fingers resumed, regular and somehow soothing.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect you to. Riley asked me to give them a hand though; so, I might have to go and play nice every now and then. Including tonight.”

Spike bit his tongue at that, unwilling to go through another round of arguing about the Initiative in general, Riley Finn in particular. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, Buffy actually seemed to trust the soldier and to think she needed whatever information he would share. Spike wouldn’t have minded so much if he hadn’t witnessed the way the wanker looked at her; and it didn’t help that Finn had told them that the soldiers had accidentally destroyed the ring of Amara when they had tried to study it. That particular blow had been harder on Spike than he had let anyone know; part of him had still hoped that eventually he would get it back and get a second chance to be in the sun with his girl.

“And what was it that they didn’t tell Giles?” he changed the subject to safer grounds.

“What do you think?”

He could practically hear the eye roll in her voice.

“About you and me. None of them said anything about it to me, and it looks like Giles doesn’t know. I would have thought they’d run to tell him. I was even wondering if I really said it or if I had only dreamed of doing it.”

There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice that puzzled Spike and he shifted their bodies until he could look straight at her.

“You did say it,” he murmured and pressed his lips to hers. It was a simple kiss, merely a touch, nothing that would spark more than they could share at that moment. In a breath, it was over and Buffy sighed.

“I should go,” she said dejectedly. “Have tons to do.”

He didn’t reply to that; if he said anything, he would be pleading for her to stay, and he didn’t want to sound like a clingy child. Slowly, she rose from the bed, straightening her clothes a little. “Oh, did I tell you? Oz came back.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow. “Did he, now? That’s going to be interesting, with Red and her new friend.”

She frowned, seemingly puzzled. “Her new friend? What new friend?”

As he reached for his pack of cigarettes, Spike considered her thoughtfully. It wasn’t his place to tell if she hadn’t noticed, but then again…

“The blonde girl? What’s her name again… Lara?”

“You mean Tara?” Buffy shook her head incredulously. “They’re not… whatever it is you’re suggesting.”

Spike’s lips curled around his cigarette. Buffy could be so blind sometimes; it could be amusing when her blind spot wasn’t set on him. “If you say so, luv. Now you’re going to give me a kiss before you abandon me?”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste as she gestured at the cigarette. “Not when you’re smoking.”

Grinning, she blew him a kiss from the tips of her fingers, and he smiled as he watched her go, her parting words echoing after her. “I’ll see you tonight after patrol.”

*****

Still annoyed, Buffy stopped and hid behind a crypt’s wall, listening carefully for any sound of following footsteps. She was always careful, when she went to see Spike, not to allow herself to be followed by anyone, especially the Initiative. She wouldn’t put it past Riley to try to follow her. He was certainly a good man, who believed he was acting for the good of all humans; but sometimes, he could be rather stubborn, especially when they discussed demons. He had shown it again earlier that evening and had irritated Buffy beyond words.

They had been talking about the afternoon meeting when he had asked about Oz. Distracted, Buffy had let it slip that he was a werewolf. Riley’s reaction had been immediate and unequivocal. Oz wasn’t fully human, so Willow was wrong for having feelings towards him. Buffy had expected him to say the same thing about her and Spike before realizing that he didn’t know. He had seen her and the vampire together, yes, but he still thought they had only slept together because of the haunting. It wasn’t hard to guess how he would react if – when – he learned the truth, and Buffy was now wondering if whatever information he passed on was worth the aggravation of his disapproval.

Reassured that no one was following her, Buffy started walking again, her thoughts returning to questions that had been troubling her since telling her friends about Spike and her. She hadn’t planned to do it – not so soon, not like that – but she didn’t regret it. If only to see Spike’s delighted surprise, it had been worth it. She simply couldn’t understand why neither Willow nor Xander had tried to talk to her about it yet, why they acted as if nothing had changed yet often wouldn’t meet her eyes, why they obviously hadn’t told Giles. Not that she was in any hurry for Giles to know.

She pushed all of these little worries and annoyance away from her mind as soon as she reached the crypt. She didn’t knock; she didn’t have to. Just as she was reaching for the door, it opened and Spike appeared behind it. He didn’t say a word, merely grinned, and she returned the easy smile as she stepped in.

All things considered, their relationship was still new, but already she was so completely comfortable with him that it felt like years had passed. It was hard to believe that it had taken her so long to let herself fall in love. It was even hard to remember what she had feared so much, especially when his lips, tongue and hands were playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.

“Staying the night?” he asked, a rumble in the hollow of her throat.

“Not sure,” she teased. “Think you can convince me?”

His laugh was deep and sent shivers down Buffy’s back as he divested her of her jacket.

“I’ll try my best,” he assured her, and yanked at the sides of her camisole. She started to protest about the torn buttons she could hear rolling on the floor of the crypt but his mouth was already on her, closing over her still covered breast, and a few lost buttons were suddenly no longer important.

She allowed herself to be led to the couch and pushed down onto the soft cushions, whimpering slightly when his mouth left her body for an instant. It returned as soon as he had divested her of what remained of her camisole and her bra; and she arched off the sofa and toward him as the mere tip of his tongue flickered against one puckered nipple and then the other.

“Anything you want, luv?” he chuckled.

“You’re a tease,” she breathed.

“Am I, now?”

Before she could reply, his lips were on her again and he was suckling at her breast. She mindlessly tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer. The hint of blunt teeth against her burning flesh had her soon moaning aloud. She closed her eyes tight, concentrating only on the sensation of his mouth and, soon, his fingers. A flick of his wrist and her pants were undone; a tug and they were at her feet along with her panties. So much for pretty underwear, she dimly thought. She expected the first flick of his thumb against her clit and hummed at the threads of pleasure it sent through her. His lips and tongue started gliding down her body, following the underside of her breast, drawing curved lines down to her bellybutton that he thoroughly explored, still lower with blunt teeth scraping against her hip, across her thigh… She practically jumped off the couch when he blew softly against her clit.

“Convinced yet?”

Having no clue what he was talking about, she raised her head and gave him a blank look.

“I guess not, then,” he laughed; the vibrations, so close to her core, were at the same time too much yet not enough. She used the grip she had on his hair to push him were she needed him. This time when he laughed, his lips were brushing against her; she groaned her appreciation wordlessly.

A wicked tongue that made a point of teasing her quickly joined caressing lips. It fluttered against her, never in any spot long enough to truly satisfy, never getting close enough to the bundle of nerves that was crying for attention. Buffy started wiggling, trying to get him where she so wanted him, but a hand on each of her thighs stilled her. At the same instant, careful teeth closed on her clit and nibbled gently, and she gasped, lying as still as she could now so as not to dislodge him. His right hand slid up to massage her breast, his left one down between her thighs; clever fingers found their way inside her and started stroking this spot that made everything so bright, so sharp…

Fireworks behind closed eyelids left Buffy gasping for breath, and she barely realized that Spike was carrying her downstairs until she felt the mattress under her. When her vision adjusted to the near darkness, she saw Spike getting rid of his clothing before joining her on the bed.

“Nice?” he murmured as he pressed against her side.

“Very,” she sighed. “I love your mouth.”

“Only my mouth?”

The petulant look on his face was delicious and she leaned to kiss him, her taste faintly on his lips.

“All of you,” she promised as she reached between them and lightly squeezed his engorged cock. His eyes briefly closed as a soft moan passed his lips.

“Do you want me to…”

She couldn’t manage to say it and could already feel her cheeks heat up at the simple thought of reciprocating. Spike seemed to understand though as he softly smiled at her and brushed a finger against her cheek.

“Only if you want to,” he murmured, but she could hear the hint of hope in his voice.

“I do want to. Just not sure how…”

It wasn’t the first time her inexperience had embarrassed her, but it had never been so acute. A little voice inside was reminding her of his words, months earlier, about how she needed to improve. She tried to push the memory away, but couldn’t totally forget.

“What if I’m… not good?” she whispered, slightly worried. “You did say I wasn’t…”

A finger across her lips stopped her from finishing that thought. “I lied,” he said blankly. “I was trying to hurt you, and I struck where I knew it would the most.”

He didn’t say more, but she heard it anyway. He had tried to hurt her as she had hurt him. She didn’t know how to answer him, whether she should apologize or not. She hadn’t meant to hurt him; it had just felt like the only solution at the time.

Without a word, she kissed him, remaining at his lips only a second before she resolutely started her descent along his body.

*****

The bed was too large without his Slayer in it and it smelled too much like her, like both of them combined, for Spike to be able to sleep after she had left in the morning. He reluctantly left it and went to the upper level, belatedly realizing that the couch’s scent might not be any more helpful. Then again, just about everything in the crypt reminded him of her, and he would have to suffer until he could be with her again.

For an instant, he hoped it was she; but when the door opened, the heavy steps told him that his guest was not Buffy – or anyone human. He jumped off the couch, his eyes widening in alarm as he instantly recognized the intruder.

“The Slayer seems quite interested in you,” Adam said without preamble as he came closer to Spike. “I am curious why.”

Furious thoughts battled in Spike’s mind as he pondered his answer. The demon was big, and according to Buffy very strong, but if Spike could only get past him…

“Why? For a simple reason,” he stated calmly. “Which is none of your business.”

On his last words, he sprung forward and punched Adam in the gut. The demon didn’t move; Spike’s hand felt as if a finger or two were broken.

“You are a vampire,” Adam continued as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. “She slays vampires. Yet, she doesn’t slay you. Why is that?”

Right. Fighting wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Talking, on the other hand, might help. Maybe he could even get some information to give the Slayer.

“She knows I can’t hurt humans. And she uses me for information.”

Adam tilted his head, a disturbingly human gesture. “You allow yourself to be used?”

“Not much else I can do, is there? And staying close to her and her mates, I’ll be right there where I need to be when this damn chip stops working and I can hunt humans again.”

For long seconds, Adam remained silent, and Spike wondered whether the demon had believed him and what would happen if he hadn’t. Adam eventually seemed convinced as he said:

“Come with me. You will help me with my problem; I will help you with yours.”

*****

Despite what the children thought, Giles wasn’t blind, far from it. He had noticed, in the last few days, that something was going on with Buffy on one side and Xander and Willow on the other; the looks, the half-frowns, and bitten lips were many clues. So far though, he hadn’t been given any idea about what was preoccupying them, and in truth he didn’t want to know _that_ badly. He had enough to think about without adding teenagers’ quarrels to the mix. Especially as they were trying to plan how to free Oz from the Initiative.

The main problem remained that they had no way to get inside, and all the good will in the world wouldn’t help, if they remained at the door.

Then, Spike arrived, and two things changed. For one, he knew how to get inside the Initiative, quickly explaining that Adam had tried to recruit him. That made Oz’s rescue suddenly easier. For the other, everybody suddenly seemed tenser, as if whatever was going on was related to Spike.

Promising himself that he’d find the underlying cause of this once Oz was safe and sound, Giles helped settle the last details of the rescue mission. He had suspicions and doubts about it all, but for some reason he would need confirmation before he believed anything. That Buffy would allow herself to become close to another vampire with everything that was going on seemed just too unreasonable, even for her.

*****

_They freed the wolf, and from what I heard, he wasn’t in too bad shape. They also freed Finn, and that was more of a surprise; apparently, he had gone against orders and tried to help Oz escape. He was trying to show off for Buffy, no doubt about it. Bloody wanker._

_I wasn’t there for the actual rescue; the Slayer had refused to let me follow them into the complex, and I didn’t really insist. Not my favorite place, nothing there for me. I returned to Giles’, knowing I would need to convince him so that he would help me make Buffy see reason. She joined us after she had helped the wanker find shelter in the old high school’s ruins, and as I had thought, she made things difficult._

_The Watcher had seen my point rather quickly; having someone close to Adam was just too good of an opportunity to pass. As I had suspected, Buffy was much trickier to persuade. As long as we were there, she refused to listen to us, repeating that taking the risk that Adam would realize I was playing him and dust me was too great, and that they would need me undusted for the final show. She left the flat in a huff, announcing that she had to patrol and that she didn’t want to hear anymore about it. I did not go after her; I was just too annoyed. Instead I shared a drink with Giles, planned with him what I could do to get information from Adam; then, I finally returned to my crypt._

_She was there when I arrived; and she was upset._

_“I don’t want you to do it,” were the first words she said. I didn’t particularly like them._

_“Too bad then, luv, ‘cause I’m not asking your permission.”_

_That seemed to shock her, and for a few seconds she was silent, her mouth working soundlessly. I walked past her to the fridge, still annoyed and unwilling to make up easily. While my back was turned, she finally found her words._

_“Remember the last time you played the double agent?” she said, her voice trembling. “It didn’t end so well, did it? You were poisoned, dying… I am not going through that again.”_

_Of course, I remembered. Hard to forget, wasn’t it? Had it been only a year since that incident? A year since I had tasted her blood?_

_“It won’t happen again,” I replied blankly, my back still to her as I emptied a mug of cold blood. “It can’t happen again. Even if I was crazy enough to try and bite you again, the chip…”_

_I didn’t hear her come closer, and her arms encircling me from behind startled me._

_“It’s not that I’m worried about,” she murmured. “I’m not going through the fear of losing you. Not again.”_

_She was holding me tight, but I managed to turn in her embrace so I could kiss her forehead._

_“Then you know how I feel every time you’re on patrol. I have to do this, Buffy. For you. For us. Because I can.”_

_She eventually relented, although I could tell she wasn’t happy about it. We agreed, also reluctantly, that it would be better to keep a low profile while I played Adam’s game. He knew where I lived, had already asked about the Slayer and me, there was no reason to give him stronger suspicions. I can’t say I liked any of it, but I just had to do it. As I had told her, this was something I could do, and there was too much these days that I couldn’t do not to seize this one chance. And if Adam could free me of the chip… well, that was just icing on the cake._


	22. Sparks

“Just a girl?” Spike scoffed. “If that’s what you think, you’re in for a surprise. She’s a lot more than that.”

Adam seemed puzzled as he listened to Spike, although it was hard to tell if it was puzzlement or skepticism. The big oaf showed as much emotions as a brick.

“The Slayer’s dangerous is all I’m saying,” he continued, trying his best to convince the patchwork demon.

When Spike had first announced his intention to play double agent, he and Giles had talked endlessly about what would be safe to tell Adam. They had discussed whether to play down Buffy’s strengths or give Adam an accurate warning, before deciding on the latter. If Adam was wary of Buffy, maybe he would hesitate before attacking her, which would give her more time to get ready.

Methodically, Spike drilled into Adam that the Slayer was to be feared, without ever giving him exact details about her actual fighting techniques or plans. It was a little tricky to explain why he had never killed her, but Adam seemed to accept the idea that he had gotten close to her to study her and defeat her more easily, a purpose only stopped by the insertion of the chip in his brain.

Then came the subject of her friends, and for the first time Spike lied.

“Nah, nothing to worry about there,” he assured Adam, gesturing dismissively. “Her Watcher’s an old bookworm, the girl’s so wrapped up in her new girlfriend that you could light a fire under them and she’d never notice, and the boy is just pathetic. They’re more interferences than a help to the Slayer. They distract her.”

As he took long drags on his cigarette, Spike tried to ascertain whether he had convinced Adam or not. There was no clue he could see, one way or the other.

“Maybe we can use them,” the demon finally said. “Distract them, so that she will be distracted too, and it will be easier to get her where I want her.”

Faking enthusiasm, Spike agreed with the idea. At least this would give him a reason to see the gang – and, more importantly, Buffy.

*****

As he listened to Spike explain Adam’s plan to sidetrack Buffy, Giles was more than distracted. He still hadn’t managed to question the children about what was going on, and it occurred to him that this might be the perfect opportunity.

“It would indeed be clever to use her friends against Buffy. One only needs to see how preoccupied she is at the moment with there being so much tension between them…”

Spike’s gaze sharpened, in total contradiction with his small shrug.

“If you say so. Didn’t notice.”

Giles found that hard to believe. More than once in the past, Spike had proven that he noticed more than what he was letting on.

“I’m sure you know exactly what’s happening,” Giles insisted, and Spike looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“I’d better get going. Just tell the Slayer about all this mess.”

It might have been the way Spike said ‘Slayer’, or the way he was suddenly fidgeting; but Giles abruptly knew his suspicions had to be true.

“You two are a couple, aren’t you?”

The brief look on Spike’s face was answer enough, and Giles didn’t stop him when he rushed for the door. For a moment, Spike’s demeanor puzzled Giles; Spike wasn’t the kind of person who would hide or get shy about his feelings. Then he understood. Spike wasn’t shy or embarrassed. He simply didn’t want to spill what Buffy had probably told him Giles shouldn’t know. It would be just like her to keep something this important quiet. Yet, she had to have told her friends. Only Giles had been left out of the loop, then. How quaint.

*****

With a sigh and a grimace of pain, Buffy closed her dorm door behind her. The day had been long, and she was just glad it was finally over. She wished she could have gone to see Spike, just to ask him to hold her and make things better, but it was too dangerous. If Adam caught on to the fact that Spike was betraying him, Spike would be in danger and Buffy simply couldn’t allow that.

She gathered up her first aid kit and toiletries and tried not to think about why she needed to clean up a couple of cuts. She had run across Adam earlier that night and had fought him; but he had gotten rid of her as if she were no more than a paper doll. And he had killed a soldier in front of her.

She had gone to see Riley, already, to tell him about his friend Forrest’s death. He was still hiding in the Sunnydale High’s ruins from the Initiative. She had noticed how distant he was before she even spoke and had finally gotten out of him that he had been informed – _thank you, Xander_ – that he knew she had dated a vampire before, and was dating another now who had bitten her in the past. The reprobation and disappointment in his voice and eyes had been exasperating. He didn’t know the first thing about her life or about Spike, what right did he have to judge her?

Just as she was about to walk out to the bathroom, a knock on the door announced the last person she would have expected.

“Angel.”

The less than perfect ending to a far from perfect day. Then again, she should have known.

“Came to tell me I’m out of my mind?” she asked tiredly after inviting him in. “Who called you? Willow, Xander, or Spike? I swear if he went ahead with that pissing contest you two have over me I’ll kick his ass into next year. And yours.”

Angel blinked twice and silently considered her for a moment.

“I came to tell you about Faith,” he said at last. “I thought you’d want to know what was going on. Wanted to be sure you were alright, too, with that demon you mentioned when you called.”

A beat, and then he asked, his voice a shade colder: “Anything you wanted to tell me about Spike?”

_Oh crap.  
_

*****

The air in Giles’ living room was thick with tension, and it didn’t take long for a spark to ignite it.

“In any case, I would have appreciated being informed,” Giles said so coldly that Willow flinched despite herself. “It would have been common courtesy. Then again, none of you appear to know the meaning of that word.”

Outraged, Willow gaped at him. He was being terribly unfair, and she was about to tell him so but Buffy was faster.

“Oh yeah, because I so needed someone else pointing out how wrong my choices are. Angel already gave me the one hundred and one reasons why I shouldn’t be with Spike, you don’t need to give me a repeat performance.”

“Hey!” Xander protested, glaring at the Slayer. “We haven’t said a word against your vampire, have we?”

“No we haven’t,” Willow chimed in. “We’ve been supportive and all, like good friends are suppose to be, even if _you_ weren’t such a good friend by hiding it from us.”

“Supportive?” Buffy snorted. “You haven’t done anything but look at me like I had killed your puppy! Both of you.”

She turned to Xander and added icily: “Unless we count telling someone who barely knows me that I’m a vamp slut.”

Xander’s eyes widened and he huffed angrily. “I didn’t say anything of the sort! Just noticed that you seem to have a thing for vampires and we always end up paying for it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Buffy scoffed. “Spike can’t even hurt anyone anymore. And if he could, he hasn’t hurt anyone in a long time…”

“Which would be why you came to us alarmed when you thought he had turned evil again,” Giles pointed out almost offhandedly. “That’s how much you trust him. No wonder we worry, don’t you think?”

“Things are different now!”

Buffy sounded exasperated, but Willow hadn’t heard anything that had convinced her. Her best friend had hidden things from her, and now she was refusing to explain herself. How many times had she opened doors for Buffy to confide to her? Why hadn’t the Slayer ever taken the offered opportunities after that first half admission?

“How is it different exactly?” Willow asked. “You weren’t sure you loved him when you first slept with him. What makes it any different now?”

Too late, Willow realized that Xander and Giles didn’t know about that. At least everything was out in the open, now. She just wished Buffy’s betrayed look hadn’t hurt so much.

*****

_Despite the risks, she came to me that night. She was upset, understandably so, and we didn’t get past the undressing stage – not from a lack of effort on my part. For a while, all she did was pace the crypt in her underwear and rant. Willow and Xander’s silent treatment, Giles’ admonition, Finn’s disapprobation, Angel’s warnings… I knew better than to try to get in her way; plus, the view wasn’t exactly bad. She had to get all of that mess out of her system, and I let her. Talked herself through it all, voiced what she would have refused to hear if anyone else had tried to say it: it was her business whom she dated or loved, and no one – not her friends, not her Watcher, not her ex – had the right to tell her she was wrong when all they had were fears and no proofs._

_Her mention of Angel didn’t exactly come as a surprise. After visiting her the previous night, he had come to me for a bit of the shouting and posturing, his usual deal. He calmed down after I reminded him he had had his chance with her and had given her up. After that, we had a drink together – yeah, I know, I didn’t expect that either – and a more civilized conversation. Which consisted of him staring at me for what felt like ages before he finally said:_

_“You really love her, don’t you?”_

_“What?” I shot back. “You thought I was just pretending all this time?”_

_I knew exactly what he had been thinking so far. That it was all about him, that I wanted her because she had been his. It had finally dawned on him that it wasn’t the case, and he looked rather perplexed._

_He changed the subject after that, asked about Adam even though he didn’t know his name, merely that there was a demon that was giving a hard time to Buffy. I gave him the full Initiative story. Even mentioned the chip, which I had thought Buffy had told him. She hadn’t, and he looked sickened by the story. He offered me a place in LA, if I needed to get away from the Initiative. I was properly baffled, especially since half an hour before he had admitted to having warned Buffy about me._

_My reminiscing came to an end when, after having exhausted her rant, Buffy finally came to a halt in front of me and plucked the cigarette from my lips._

_“Get dressed. We’re going out.”_

_I started arguing about Adam, the possibility that he may have spies and the danger of being out together, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I think she saw right through me, and understood that I still had plans for our night, which didn’t involve getting dressed again. We’d get to that later, she promised; but for now, she wanted to do something else. She got me clean clothes from my wobbly dresser, picking the shirt I had noticed she liked best, and then dressed herself, brushing the dust off her clothes before putting them on. I asked her where we were going, and she merely told me I’d see when we got there._

_Well, I guessed before we arrived, there wasn’t much in the direction we went except for Revello drive, but she still managed to surprise me. We went to her home. We walked in together. And when Joyce asked us if anything was wrong – of course she would think something was wrong, she hadn’t seen me in weeks and Buffy since the Faith incident – Buffy calmly replied, a bright smile on her lips:_

_“Nothing wrong. Can’t my boyfriend and I come by to say hi anymore?”_

_It was a close tie as to who was most baffled, Joyce or me. Dawn, on the other hand, seemed a bit pouty but not particularly surprised. She was jealous, my Bit, even if she wouldn’t have admitted it. Probably had hoped that I’d get tired of her big sister and that by then she’d be old enough to catch my eye._

_Buffy announced her desire for hot cocoa and left us in the hall as she entered the kitchen. Dawn followed her, already calling out that we needed marshmallows. Joyce’s shock had lessened, and now she was watching me as if trying to decide whether to stake me or set me on fire._

_“I don’t think I need to tell you I like you,” she said at last, low enough so only I would hear. Not the words that I had expected, those, and I could feel that more was coming. I nodded._

_“And I don’t think I need to tell you either that I’ll kill you if you ever hurt her or endanger her in any way.”_

_Delivered with a tight smile, it was the most charming threat I had ever received; I nodded again._

_“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”_

_“Mom? Spike? Are you coming?”_

_We followed Buffy’s voice together, and Joyce lightly squeezed my shoulder as she passed me and walked around the island to help her daughters. I would never have thought it would go so easily, not after her request, a year before, that I leave town along with Angel. Maybe, by then, it had sunk in that Buffy would never have a normal life. Or maybe Joyce had realized she couldn’t interfere with our feelings._

_I don’t know which it was. I just know I was grateful. To her, and to Buffy. And at that second I decided that I’d help my Slayer make up with her gang and never offer them a reason to give her nasty ‘told you so’s. If she was ready to fight them for me, it was the least I could do._


	23. All The Demons In The World

Continuing his undercover mission, Spike went to see Adam at nightfall, his mind full of Buffy and what had happened the previous night. They had remained at her mother’s house for an hour or so, discussing innocuous things, staying clear of anything Slayer related even when Joyce had hinted about it. Spike still thought she had a right to know what was going on in her daughter’s life, but if Buffy believed she was protecting her by keeping quiet, there wasn’t much he could do about it save for try to convince her otherwise.

After that, they had returned to his crypt, both of them even more careful than usual as they were wary of being followed or spied on. They had seen nothing suspicious, demon or otherwise, and had closed the door behind them with a hint of relief. She shouldn’t have been there, not if they were trying to keep up the facade for Adam, but she had admitted she didn’t want to go back to her dorm and confront Willow quite yet. That was when Spike had asked the question that had been bothering him for some time.

*****

_Slow moves and fleeting touches interspaced with tender kisses as Spike and Buffy undressed each other, unhurried as they savored the growing desire between them. Once they were both nude, they moved to the bed, and their pace remained slow._

_“So, tell me…” Spike murmured against her collarbone, the tickle of his lips making her shiver. “Why did you tell them? Your mates the other day? You mum today? Always wanted us to be a secret until now. Why did you change your mind?”_

_For long seconds, she was quiet; both her hands were at the nape of his neck, twirling the small hairs there. He didn’t press her; instead, he continued to trace patterns on her skin with his lips, giving her the time she needed to answer. She did so with a question of her own._

_“When did you know you were in love with me?”_

_When had he known? He remembered the kiss a flustered William had received. He remembered his jealousy during the time she and Angel spent together. He remembered Drusilla’s words. He remembered his need to keep her safe, night after night. All of it leading to the slow revelation that it was more than a schoolboy crush; that he truly loved her._

_“Before I lost my soul,” he replied, and pulled away from her so he would see what affect his words had on her. “Couldn’t tell you when exactly. It just… grew, until I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore.”_

_The faintest of frowns flew over her features, mixed with surprise; he could guess what had caused it. It had taken her so long to realize he was trying to get close to her. She reached out and traced his lips with her thumb._

_“That’s not how it went for me,” she said slowly, baring her soul with each word. “At first I thought it was just lust… and you were so much like Angel…”_

_He tensed at the words but managed to keep quiet, curious as to what she would say next._

_“I didn’t want it to be any more than lust,” she continued. “I was too afraid, about what it would mean about me, about what the others would say… Keeping you and I a secret was a way to make it all a little less real.”_

_She pressed her lips to his, as if in a silent apology._

_“Then, I knew. A blinding truth that came out of nowhere. It was as if all my fears had disappeared in a blink. I looked at you and saw all we had gone through and there was nothing left but this knowledge that there was no one else I wanted to be with more; I couldn’t deny it anymore, not if it meant risking losing you. I knew there was nothing or no one I wouldn’t fight for you. Including the gang and my mom if they didn’t approve.”_

_There was a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze; not about her feelings, Spike was sure, but rather about what he thought of what she had told him. He put her fears to rest by pulling her body flush against his and kissing the breath out of her._

*****

To Spike’s surprise, Finn was with Adam when he reached the cave. He didn’t look quite like himself though, if Spike was totally honest; and as pleasing as it would have been to tell the Slayer that her soldier friend had joined the enemy, he doubted that was what was happening there.

Assuring Adam that everything was going on as planned, he tried to barter to have the chip removed right then and there. Adam however remained inflexible, wanting to see the results of Spike’s help before he rewarded him.

It was a grumbling Spike that left the crypt; he was beginning to have a bad feeling about his chip removal. He went and found Buffy, dragged her to Giles’, and gave brief calls to summon Willow and Xander to the Englishman’s flat by invoking an emergency. When they were all there, the party started at last.

*****

Going to Giles’ had been the last thing Buffy had intended to do that night, but Spike didn’t give her much of a choice, announcing that he had new information about Adam’s plan and that he would only speak when everyone could hear. She started wondering if he had gone mad when he called first Willow then Xander and practically ordered them to come, but surprisingly enough they did come. Giles wasn’t pleased either, that much was clear as they waited, but he didn’t say much.

When everyone was there, eyes shifting and avoiding both her and Spike, he made all of them sit down and he started talking. Buffy was soon baffled and speechless.

“Adam is preparing his coup,” he announced, and he could have been talking of the weather for all the emotion he put in his words. “It all starts tomorrow night. And he’s expecting Buffy there; I’m not quite sure why, but she has a role in his plan.”

He paused, to let the information sink in, and started again when Giles looked like he was going to say something.

“He’s expecting her to come alone; because I told him you lot are bloody useless when it comes to fighting.”

Frowns, glares, and the beginning of irritated protests didn’t stop him, and he continued, unabated.

“Truth is, I told him that so you’d have the benefit of surprise. Take him aback and take him down. Didn’t know at the time that you’d start playing this stupid game of yours. So, it’s time to stop it before someone gets killed. The Slayer and I are together. Like it or not, it’s not going to change because of you. And you’re all hypocrites if you keep on whining.”

This time, the protests were louder with only Buffy remaining seated; Xander, Willow, and Giles had jumped up, the first two looking like they were ready to leave, the last as if he was about to throw Spike out. Spike attacked him first, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“You,” he said coldly. “You were the first to guess what I felt for her. You never said a thing, to me or to her. Never did anything either. If you worried so much about how dangerous I was to your precious Slayer, you could have staked me a hundred times. You didn’t. Worse, you took me in, helped me. So, you’ve no right to complain that no one told you. No right either to claim I’ll hurt her.”

Everyone seemed to freeze as Spike went on with his tirade, Giles’ eyes widening gradually as he stared in turn at the vampire and at Buffy. Without waiting for an answer, Spike turned to Willow and now pointed the same finger at her.

“How long since you’ve been with Tara?” he asked, but never gave her time to answer. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming with the sharing, so don’t you pretend to be all offended that Buffy had some secrets too. Especially seeing how you had pretty much guessed what was going on too, didn’t you? Ain’t that why you wished us in love and married?”

Willow’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Buffy blinked as she realized how right Spike had to be, about Tara and about the wishing spell. She hadn’t realized before, but it was rather obvious now.

“As for you,” Spike turned to Xander, “your sputterings about evil demons would have a bit more strength to them if you weren’t shagging an ex-demon who has more blood on her hands than even I do. Grow up, get over Buffy, and stop worrying I’m going to go back to killing humans because it just. Bloody. Well. Won’t. Happen.”

Buffy didn’t have time to notice Xander’s reaction, because Spike was turning to her. No finger was pointed at her and his voice was softened by a smile, but he did have something to say.

“You, luv, care too much about what they think, even when you say you don’t. They’re your friends, not your conscience, and you should have made that clear to them long ago. You made things worse by hiding stuff from them, and out of fairness to them you should admit it.”

He was done then, and strolled into the kitchen to get some of the blood left in Giles’ fridge, seemingly uncaring of the deep silence slowly turning into guilty looks, embarrassed smiles and quiet reconciliation. But the small curve of his lips when he returned spelled his self-satisfaction quite clearly.

*****

__  
Am I good or what? You can start applauding now. Thank you.

_It was only simple truths that I shoved in their faces; no accusations or recriminations, just the truth. That was why they couldn’t deny what I said. That was why all that was left for them to do was get over it. They were still a bit hesitant around me for a while after that, but not so much because they were afraid of me or some such nonsense; rather it was the merciless image of themselves I had reflected back toward them that still bothered them._

_So. Everybody reconciled, and we were ready to take on Adam. But that meant coming up with a plan, which took a little more time than my intervention session. I told them about Finn – just his name made me want to gag – and the threads I had grasped from Adam. All together, we pieced the general outline of what he was trying to do. That was the first step in knowing how to stop him. Then someone – I think it was Harris – said that if Adam wasn’t expecting the gang to tag along, then they should have a prime role. It was just a matter of minutes before they came up with the idea of the spell to combine all of their strengths into Buffy. All of our strengths – because I didn’t need to request it, they included me in it from the start. That small detail, and the fact that not an eyebrow twitched when the Slayer sat on my lap during the middle of all this planning, were incredibly satisfying._

_We polished the plan and by midnight I was out of there, alone, both things one last try to protect appearances should Adam be keeping an eye on me. We had decided that I’d keep playing his game ‘til Buffy started fighting him, at which point I’d join in. They didn’t know about my deal concerning the chip, and they didn’t need to know; I thought that would only make them suspicious again toward me. I still hoped then that I’d be able to have the big brute remove it before it all went to hell. Of course, it didn’t go as smoothly. Does anything I ever plan do?_

_It went as we had hoped, all of it, the entering of the Initiative, the spell, the fight, Adam’s demise, or as close to it to make no difference – with only a small exception. Right after Buffy entered Adam’s last bastion, she tried to get Finn – bloody fucking bastard – out of danger; he told her I was working for Adam – which she knew – and that Adam would pay me by taking the chip out – which she didn’t. Her gaze crossed mine for a fleeting second, and there was an immense surprise in these large eyes. Surprise, but no sense whatsoever of betrayal. Only trust._

_I would have taken all the demons in the world with my bare hands for her at that instant._

_She didn’t simply love me. She trusted me, too. Really did. And that meant more to me than getting rid of the chip.  
_


	24. I Won't

In the aftermath of the battle, Buffy would have enjoyed nothing more than spending a few intimate hours with Spike. She was still brimming with the power offered to her by her friends, still bursting with more energy than she could contain; it would have made for quite an interesting night, she was sure.

Beyond that, being alone with him would have allowed for a little discussion about the chip, and whether he had truly tried to have Adam extract it. She trusted him, with or without the chip, no reserve and no doubt. She wouldn’t allow herself to have doubts, not anymore, not when he had proven her how wrong she had been before. But at the same time, she saw the chip as her ultimate argument against any criticism of her relationship with Spike. He didn’t have a soul, but who cared about that? Souled humans murdered innocent people every day. Spike didn’t – couldn’t – wouldn’t. It was as simple as that. And that was why the idea that he was seeking to get rid of the chip was a little troubling. The prospect of his skull being opened for surgery wasn’t exactly reassuring either.

But whether to talk or to make love, she didn’t get the opportunity to spend time alone with him when they finally came out of the Initiative complex. She wasn’t the only one still filled with energy, and it only took an instant before the gang had decided on a movie night at her mom’s house. A glance at Spike was all Buffy needed to confirm that he was a bit disappointed too, but a few quiet words once they arrived at Revello ascertained that he didn’t mind, far from it, his casual inclusion into the group’s night and choice of movies.

“If it means they’re over whatever mistrust they had for me, I can survive a few more hours in their company.”

The sudden silence confirmed that the other members of the group had overheard the smirked comment meant only for Buffy’s ears. She held her breath, waiting for their reaction to the mildly stinging remark. The reconciliation Spike had instigated was still fresh, still fragile, and she couldn’t help but fear…

“Survive?” Xander snorted. “Is that a joke, undead boy?”

A lopsided grin made his words teasing where instead they could so easily have been blows. He walked past them and toward the living room, holding a bowl of popcorn he had supposedly helped Joyce prepare.

“You’re stealing my best friend,” Willow mock-accused him, pointing a finger at him as he had done to her the night before. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t change you into a toad at your first argument. Or beat you up with a shovel.”

She winked at Buffy as she joined Xander. That left Giles, who merely rolled his eyes at the whole act and didn’t comment. Spike laughed and shook his head incredulously as he watched them go.

“I’m off to bed,” Joyce announced to the two of them. “Have a good night.”

The maternal kiss to her forehead was nice and comforting to Buffy; the same kiss pressed to Spike’s cheek was even nicer to witness.

“Shall we join them?” Spike said, grinning widely, and Buffy took his offered hand. The gang had left them the sofa. They lay down together, Buffy’s back to Spike’s front, huddled under a blanket but hands out and in plain sight. No naughtiness allowed. Not until they were alone.

All five of them were ready for a night of movies. All five of them were asleep before the first show even started. All five of them were haunted by the same angry ghost.

*****

Walking through unknown woods when he had no clue how he had arrived there wasn’t exactly exciting to Spike; barely being able to see farther than his own hand stretched out in front of him wasn’t good either. The world was a blurry, fuzzy mess, and no amount of rubbing at his eyes was making things any better. The worse though had to be that heightening sense that sunrise was close, very close, and he had to find shelter soon or he would burn. Or maybe the worse was that feeling that he was being followed – no, _stalked_ – by an unidentified presence. His foot caught on something – a tree branch, maybe, although he thought he caught a glimpse of a corpse that looked like Adam – and he stumbled forward. He didn’t fall though, and when he straightened up glasses were pushed onto his nose.

“There you go. You’re a Watcher now!”

Blinking, he looked around him, his vision now perfect even though the glasses had no lenses. Giles was in front of him, grinning proudly as he cleaned his own glasses with a handkerchief. On his left was Buffy, and on his right… another Buffy. One looked at him as if she were about to stake him, glaring with arms crossed over her chest, the other appeared to have more amorous intentions as she smiled lovingly. They were in Giles’ living room, Spike realized, just as the Watcher clapped a hand on his shoulder and guided him toward the door.

“I can’t be a Watcher,” he tried to tell Giles, frowning as he tried to understand how he had come from the forest to the Watcher’s flat. “I’m a vampire. I just can’t…”

Ignoring him and still grinning, Giles opened the door and pushed him out, where, to Spike’s horror, the sun had risen. The vampire shouted as he expected the pain to start, but nothing happened. Amazed, he stared at his own hands, still not smoking or catching fire, and suddenly noticed his attire. He was clothed entirely in tweed. Not only that, but he was standing in a sandbox, Buffy sitting cross-legged at his feet.

“What the…”

“She’s out there,” Buffy said as she looked up, seemingly not surprised in the slightest that he was standing unharmed in the sun. She was playing with a small bucket, filling it with sand, but the more she added to it, the less it appeared to hold.

“Who is out there?”

“I don’t know her name.”

The answer was from Buffy, but it came from behind him and when he turned toward it the scenery changed to a cemetery at night. It was more familiar, but the odd feeling from earlier was back. Buffy stepped closer to him and he could feel her shiver.

“She’s hunting us,” she murmured, worry in her voice. He wrapped his arms around her, a little surprised to discover his duster was back.

“I’ll protect you,” he replied. “You know I will. I’d battle anyone or anything for you.”

Wide doe eyes looked up at him, and for a fraction of a second Buffy seemed younger, her hair darker, longer.

“Would you battle even gods?”

“Is that what’s stalking us?”

Shaking her head, Buffy pulled free of his arms.

“I know what she is. But she won’t surprise me. Be careful.”

A kiss was pressed to his lips, and she was gone. The sensation of being watched remained, however, and something moved on the edge of his vision. He didn’t like being the stalkee, had never liked it and never would. He’d much rather be the hunter. Without thinking, he followed his senses and started running toward the shadow that in turn circled him, ran away, and then came closer. He thought he had her, was sure he did, but the elbow he caught was that of a bald man who offered him a slice of… cheese?

“Cheese is perfect for all occasions,” the strange man stated cheerfully.

A noise behind him caught Spike’s attention; he turned to discover Willow, eyes closed and features grim as she sat at the center of a circle of candles. Her lips moved but he couldn’t hear a word of what she was saying. Past her, the door of a crypt banged shut – his crypt. He went to it, wary of whom he would find inside. But when he stepped in, he was suddenly outside.

Again, it was hard not to flinch in the sun, even more so now that he was in a desert, no shelter to be found anywhere. Pink fabric flying in the wind caught his gaze, and he squinted as Tara approached him, barefoot in the golden sand, calmly serene.

“You should be afraid of her,” she warned him, and a flicker of her eyes to something behind him made him turn. The same shadow he had caught sight of before was now crouching a few feet from him, and for the first time he could see her clearly. It was a dark skinned woman adorned in dreadlocks and rags, her face painted in gray ash. She had a stake in one hand and a feral light in her eyes. Something about her felt old, more than old, ancient. Something more was also familiar, even though he knew he had never seen her. It was when she threw herself at him, stake raised high, that he made the connection, and he stumbled out of her way, startled.

“Slayer.” he murmured.

“The first of them,” Tara confirmed coolly. “She doesn’t like you.”

Spike snorted even as he walked sideways, keeping a safe distance between him and the Slayer. “Wouldn’t have guessed. Any particular reason why?”

He had directed the question toward Tara, but it was the Slayer who answered with a growl.

“Vampire!”

Again she jumped at him; again he sidestepped.

“Good vampire,” he informed her, hands raised inoffensively toward her. “I help her. I help Buffy.”

Another growl at Buffy’s name made it clear that she knew whom he was talking about.

“Bite her,” she growled. “Killed two before. Kill this one too.”

“No!”

The shout seemed to echo in the empty desert. He turned to Tara, who looked at him dispassionately.

“Tell her!” he gestured toward the creature that was almost as old as his demon. “Tell her I’d never hurt Buffy.”

“But you already did. You almost drained me. Don’t you remember?”

Startled, he once more faced the Slayer; the first one had disappeared, replaced by Buffy. She held the same stake, had the same markings on her face, the same light in her eyes, and he knew it was the Slayer spirit in front of him, not his lover.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he pleaded nonetheless. “You know I didn’t.”

He blinked, and in that short second the first Slayer replaced Buffy again.

“Bite. Kill. Stake,” she growled.

Without prompting, Tara’s voice rose, explained, and made everything even murkier. At the same instant, the Slayer struck again, and this time she and Spike fell down in the sand. They rolled together, struggling for possession of the stake, her smaller hand tight around it, Spike’s own covering hers.

“You kill her or she kills you,” Tara said calmly. “There’s no other way out of it. You bit her before, you will bite her again.”

Spike’s hand squeezed hard enough that the Slayer yelled in pain and finally dropped the stake. It slid in the sand, quickly out of reach, and Spike pinned the Slayer down. A flash of fear in her eyes made him realize he had shifted to his demon visage without meaning to; before he could shake it off, Buffy had taken the first Slayer’s place again, and two crimson dots on her neck marked the place where he had bit her a year before. He froze as the sight brought back the memory of her blood sliding down his throat, of her body so close to his, her warmth suffusing him, her life slowly slipping away…

“I won’t. I won’t betray her trust.”

His voice was quiet, this time, in complete contrast to his earlier shout. Quiet, but determined.

“I’ll protect her with my life if need be. Until the end of the world.”

Releasing her hands slowly, he stood, took a couple of steps back and witnessed her changing again.

“I won’t betray her,” he repeated, and turned his back on the first Slayer. He hadn’t taken three steps that she had thrown herself on him and they were fighting in the sand again. She had the advantage this time, and despite all his efforts he couldn’t prevent her from shoving the stake into his heart. The pain was excruciating and he shut his eyes tight, the image of Buffy and so much regret filling his mind as he lay in the sand in a crumpled heap.

*****

_I can’t say this is my fondest dream, far from it. And I’d rather we changed the subject._

_Buffy and the others asked me, of course, what I had dreamed of, whether the first Slayer had attacked me too. I kept the details to myself. They certainly didn’t need to be reminded that I had bitten the Slayer before, didn’t need to wonder if I’d ever do it again._

_Yes, I know what you’re thinking. With that bloody chip in my head, I couldn’t do it anyway. But I’ll admit that by then I was beginning to have my doubts. Pain is a fickle thing, so is intent. The question was beginning to form in my mind, not fully clear yet but a beginning, as to how exactly the chip knew when to fire. How it knew when I wanted to hurt a human. What the limits were. As many questions that found answers, eventually, though sometimes not as complete as I would have wished. In any case, I hadn’t abandoned the idea of getting the chip out; Adam was just a first try. And since the Slayer hadn’t seemed particularly horrified at the thought, I fully intended to try again, maybe even with her help._

_It wasn’t long until we got to that subject. It wasn’t long until we argued about it. It thankfully wasn’t long until we reached an understanding and made up._

_And that’s our whole relationship summed up in two lines._

_Want to try to develop the topic a bit?_


	25. First Argument

Finding a book about tarot and the meaning of the cards wasn’t very difficult; all Buffy had to do was ask Willow, who had one in her stash. It had been a few days since the spell, a few quiet days as many demons had been slaughtered with the Initiative debacle. Buffy didn’t mind the reprieve at all. 

The cards Willow had used for the joining spell were still on the desk, and upon seeing them once more, Buffy suddenly had decided to look them up. It would give her a break from studying for her final exams.

The first card she looked up was Spike’s.

They had had a small argument the previous night. Small and insignificant. Or so she hoped. It was their first argument as a couple, and knowing them and their tempers, it probably wouldn’t be the last. It had scared her, to argue with him like this, but what else could she have done when he refused to listen to her point of view? He was stubborn, she had known that before, but it hadn’t mattered much until now. 

The worse was that he seemed to think she didn’t want him to get rid of the chip because it would mean he could hurt humans again. That wasn’t it and if he had only listened he would have understood. She wasn’t afraid for Sunnydale’s population. She was afraid for him. She had heard Riley explain how a few experiments had turned out very wrong and the Initiative had to dust the brain-damaged vampires before finally being successful with Spike. Couldn’t he see how dangerous this was?

*****

_“Did you just growl at me?” Buffy exclaimed incredulously._

_Hands on her hips, she stopped dead in her tracks, and soon enough, Spike had stopped too and turned to her._

_“I didn’t growl at you. I just growled.”_

_And he did it again for emphasis._

_She snorted. “And the difference would be what exactly? We disagree on something and you get all caveman on me.”_

_“I didn’t…”_

_Irritation filled his eyes, his face, his whole posture._

_“I’m a vampire,” he said very low, coming closer to her. “Seeing how you’re the vampire Slayer and all, you might be aware that vampires growl. Or did your Watcher forget that part of your training too?”_

_It would have been easy to defuse the whole thing. Point out that vampires purred too, state that she much preferred that sound coming from him, ask him if he would let her make him purr. It would have been too easy._

_“Do you really have to be so annoying?”_

_“I’m annoying? Me?” A hand to his heart completed the indignant act. “You’re the one who just won’t listen to what I’m saying!”_

_Throwing his hands in the air, he walked away from her and started pacing. Immediately, the cigarettes were out and Buffy was scrunching her nose in distaste. She wasn’t getting used to his bad habit._

_“I’ve listened,” she countered as calmly as she could. “I’ve heard you say you want the chip out. That you’re willing to do just about anything to get it out. Regardless of the risks…”_

_“You said you trusted me!” he interrupted her abruptly. “Why should it bother you…”_

_“I trust you. I just don’t want you brain dead. Have you heard a word of what I said?”_

_“And I told you it won’t happen.”_

_“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. Anything could happen.”_

_With a shake of his head, Spike sighed._

_“Anything could happen now. Any human wanker who doesn’t like losing to me at the pool table could break my back and I wouldn’t be able to raise a finger.”_

_“Surgery is more dangerous than…”_

_But Spike wasn’t listening. He was striding away, without even a goodbye. Buffy watched him go, dumbstruck that he would leave like this. After a few seconds, he paused, looked back toward her._

_“’ll see you tomorrow night.”_

_There was the barest hint of a question in his tone, and she nodded in answer. This time, when he left, he didn’t look back._

__

*****

Simply thinking again about what had happened was upsetting Buffy enough that she couldn’t concentrate on what she was reading. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Spike wasn’t going to leave her or leave town because they had had an argument, she repeatedly told herself. He had only walked away from a discussion that had been going nowhere. She could understand that. She had done the same herself in other circumstances. It was sometimes the best solution. No reason to worry about it enough to make herself sick. She would see him that night, and things would be better. They had to be.

Her thoughts now a little calmer, Buffy tried again to read the entry about Spike’s card. They had thought of having him represented by the Lovers card at first, but in the end he had suggested a different one. Strength.

 _Mental and physical strength and health. The ability to cultivate latent potential to a higher, more developed state. A well-balanced body and mind.  
_  
She smiled despite herself at the words. The entry described Spike so well, it was almost scary. The picture on the card was oddly appropriate, too. A woman taming a lion. Although she wasn’t blind enough to believe she had tamed his demon. He had done that alone, she was well aware of it, and could only be proud that he had done it, at least she thought he had, in part for her.

Closing the book abruptly, she gave up the pretense and stood. She wasn’t going to be able to do anything productive until she talked to him and made sure they were fine.

*****

As soon as she placed a foot on the ladder, Spike awoke. He kept his eyes shut however, and pretended to sleep, curious as to what she would do, unwilling to cave and give in to her, which he knew he would do if he talked to her at that instant, if only because she had come to him.

His senses focused on her, sounds and scent, and he pictured her in his mind as she moved around the room. She tiptoed to the foot of the bed and stood there for a few instants before coming up to the side, taking off her shoes and climbing in the bed behind him. Carefully, she moved closer to him and pressed up against his back as her arm draped over his waist. He could feel her breath stirring the short hairs at the back of his neck, could hear her strong and regular heartbeat. Without even being aware of it, he let her presence lull him back to sleep and started purring softly.

When he woke again, she was still there, still behind him, her arm still holding him close. Her other hand was in his hair, fingers softly touching as if she were afraid of awakening him. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing.

“Any luck finding it?” he asked in a quiet murmur.

She froze for an instant, undoubtedly surprised that he was awake, then resumed her search.

“No. I don’t feel anything. I can’t even see a scar.”

He didn’t tell her how often he had prodded his own skull in search of the damn chip. She could certainly imagine; he didn’t need to say it.

Unsure why she was there and whether her presence meant she had changed her mind, he kept quiet, waiting for her to take the first step. She finally did after interminable minutes of silence.

“I understand why it’s so important to you,” she murmured, her fingers still raking his hair but in a caressing gesture now.

“I’m not sure you do,” he couldn’t help but reply, his tone slightly bitter.

She sighed, so softly that he didn’t hear it, only felt the air on his skin.

“Remember last year when Giles took my powers away? You weren’t in town at the time but I told you about it, didn’t I?”

He remembered. He had been in Los Angeles, at the time, freshly unsouled, still unable to kill.

“I felt so lost,” she continued. “It was as if I had lost everything that made me who I was. Is that anything like what you’re feeling?”

“A little,” he reluctantly acquiesced.

She held him almost imperceptibly tighter.

“But I was more than simple physical strength. And I survived. And you are more than that too.”

Her arm withdrew from his waist and he was about to protest when it returned; there was a tarot card in her hand.

“You can still fight demons. You still have your brain. You’re still you, Spike. Still strong, inside and out. The chip doesn’t change that.”

She paused, and then added, so quietly that he wasn’t sure he heard her right: “I don’t want to lose you.”

He turned in her loose embrace and faced her. “Not going to lose me, luv.”

“Brain surgery is risky. Even for a vampire.”

And it finally struck him. She really was worried; it wasn’t simply an excuse against getting rid of the damn chip.

“What if it was without risks?” he asked. “Would you mind then?”

“No. But there _are_ risks.”

Running a finger along her jaw, he tried to find a middle ground.

“How about that, then, Slayer. I’ll keep looking for a way to get it out. And when… if I find someone to do it, you’ll make the final decision. Ask them what the risks are and decide if it’s worth it.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You would… do that? Leave the decision to me?”

“If you promise your decision will only be about the danger to my brain and nothing else.”

The smile that brightened her face was answer enough to him.

“I promise,” she murmured, and sealed the pledge with a kiss.

*****

Every time Spike touched her, Buffy suddenly could understand poetry. 

There was the silkiness of his skin, as smooth and as pale as paper, and no poem could have found a better canvas than that of his body. 

There was the beauty of the lines his fingers traced on her skin, and she tried her best to copy them, letter by letter, word by word, as ornate and touching as they were when he gave them to her.

There was the music of his words, whispers, gasps, groans, all of them with a special meaning meant only for her ears. Her own words seemed so inadequate in comparison, none of them more effective than a simple but so precious ‘I love you’.

There was the meter of his hips, thrusting against her so regularly until she was lost in his rhythm like he was lost in her.

There were the feelings he animated in her, the colors that bloomed behind her eyelids, the sound of their mixed pleasure, the scent of them together, the taste of his kiss, the feel of him, each of them an ode to love, each of them valued beyond any measure.

Every time Spike touched her, Buffy wanted to call him a poet.

*****

_Yeah. Right. What exactly are you smoking? Looks like it does wonders for your imagination but not so much for your style._

_You know, I’ve read a lot in a century and half. There’s only so much sleep even a vampire can bear, and I’ve never been one to need a lot of rest anyway. Had to fill all these empty hours with something. A lot of what I’ve read was poems. Old habit from my human days, I suppose. So you can trust me when I tell you that was the lamest attempt at poetry I’ve seen in a good century. And believe me, I know all about god-awful poetry._

_Why can’t you just say that we had one of our best fucks after our first argument? That’s what they want to hear anyway, don’t you know it? They don’t give a damn about why we argued or how we made peace, they want to know about the good part. With graphic details in all their glory. Want me to take measurements for you so you’ll be precise?_

_No? You’re sure? I don’t mind._

_Whatever. You prude._

_So anyway. First real argument, first compromise, first making up sex. The first of… many. Seeing how it’s the Slayer and me we’re talking about, it couldn’t really go any other way, could it? Couldn’t be all flowers and smiles, there had to be thorns and a few tears, too. Too many of these, I sometimes think, but it’s too late to change anything, isn’t it? That’s how it went, the happy and the sad, the sexy and the angry, for good and for worse._

_But we’ll get to that, won’t we?  
_


End file.
